Pandora
by LittleMissPeachy
Summary: When Colin Creevey stumbles upon Draco Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he discovers that photographs don't lie. As a grudging friendship forms, the boys must learn to deal with outside pressures and adjust to their surprising new relationship. Slash. Complete, with sequel in progress.
1. Unexpected & Unwanted

**Disclaimer:** _In case you didn't realize it, the characters belong to JKR. Got it? Carry on, dear reader._

**Warnings:**_ Major angst, some Muggle born/half-blood bashing._

**AN:** _Follows canon Sixth Year details for the most part but does dive into AU territory. Occasionally switches POV between Draco and Colin._

_This is written by request for _davros fan_, who supplied me with the main ideas and plot line. There will be a sequel, to be published on davros fan's_ _profile. When complete, link will be provided at the end of the last chapter._

* * *

He stood hunched over the sink, his hands bracing himself, unable to look at his reflection. He knew what he would see: white hair, greasy from too many days left unwashed, pale, clammy skin, and eyes wide from the bone-deep fear coursing though his body. His breathing came raggedly, and he could feel the tears rushing towards the surface. He was not proud of it. He was, in fact, ashamed of the salty drops that seemed to appear far too often these days.

He waved a silencing charm at the door and gave vent to his frustration and fear, howl after howl that would have made anyone think a werewolf was near, had they been able to hear him.

"This dreadful shrieking is hurting my ears!"

He stopped mid-scream and turned quickly to see Moaning Myrtle floating above a stall. "Why do I care if it hurts your ears?" he snarled. "Get. Out."

"How rude," the ghost huffed. "I don't know why I even bothered." She disappeared, and he could hear a slight splash as she left. He turned back to the sink and his eyes fell on his reflection. He cringed. He looked even worse than he remembered. He looked back at the place where the ghost had vanished, idly wondering if silencing charms work on ghosts or if his wand was malfunctioning.

Either way, he couldn't bring himself to care very much.

* * *

He didn't know what day it was anymore. Every day felt the same, each one blending into the next, and he still didn't have a plan that did not rely on his ability for magical carpentry. He could feel the despair once more burn within, and didn't fight it. Harsh sobs ripped from him and shook his body violently, and he made no attempt to wipe the bitter tears as they left tracks upon his cheeks.

_Click click click_. The sound made him freeze as he looked past his own reflection in the mirror and saw that of another boy, holding a camera in his hands and wearing a shocked expression. "S-sorry," he stammered. "I only wanted a picture of the ghost that haunts the bathroom, you know, to show my parents, and I thought catching her unawares would be best, as I don't know if she'll want her picture taken – " The boy stopped babbling as he saw Draco grab his wand, previously discarded on the side of a sink.

"Get out, you filthy Mudblood," Draco threatened as he threw a nonverbal curse at the boy. He was surprised when his spell was blocked by a quick shield charm. He flicked his wand and sent another curse, but the boy had already disappeared.

He shook his head, trembling with anger. Where the hell did that _muggle born_ learn to cast such strong shields that fast? He recognized him; that was the boy who hero-worshiped Potter. What was his name? Creevey something-or-other, he thought.

Draco slid down to the floor. The adrenaline from the encounter was fading, leaving him feeling even more drained than before.

It was three hours later, among the discarded items in the Room of Hidden Things, that he remembered that Creevey had evidence of his breakdown in his camera.

* * *

Colin Creevey was happy.

He knew he should be worried about the threat of – he took a deep breath, almost afraid to think the name – Voldemort, out there somewhere causing havoc in the world. And he was. But here, safely inside Hogwarts, with the mundane tasks of going to class and pursing his passion of photography, he couldn't help but feel contented. Perhaps, of course, this was due to where he currently stood.

It was originally a classroom, he knew. It had been long since abandoned for reasons unknown to him. He was not particularly interested in the reason. He was only interested in the current purpose of the room.

This was his darkroom.

Every good photographer needed one, of course. In his earlier years at Hogwarts he'd simply used random broom closets, bathrooms, and empty classrooms. One too many times of walking in on him, however, led Professor McGonagall to give him permission to set up a permanent residence.

He hummed to himself quietly. He enjoyed the absolute calm and feeling of joy that his slow, steady work with the various solutions needed for developing his photos gave him. He carefully pulled each one out of the mixture and hung them up to dry on a line stretched across the length of the room. Slowly the outlines of people and places appeared, almost as if from magic, although of the muggle variety. He looked at each one in turn, glancing at most and occasionally staring at some, lost in the memory it produced.

He caught his breath when he came to one of the last few pictures he'd taken. Draco Malfoy stood, back turned toward the camera, his face reflected in the mirror, a fraction of a moment before he'd realized Colin was there. The expression was what caught Colin's eye. He looked – broken, inconsolable, and above all, terrified. Colin's heart constricted as he gazed at the photo. It was some moments before he looked at the last two photos, both of Malfoy after he'd realized Colin was behind him. It was Malfoy's eyes that yet again caught his attention more than any other detail. They were filled with rage, yes, but he could also see shame and fear.

He couldn't say why, exactly. But in that moment, Colin vowed to do whatever he could to help Draco Malfoy.

Over the next few days he watched the pale blonde boy, waiting to catch him alone. Curiously, he noticed that Harry was watching Malfoy as well, but dismissed it almost immediately. Their rivalry was well known; Harry was probably looking for ways to pull some prank on him.

At last, five days after his encounter with Malfoy, he saw the boy enter Myrtle's bathroom once more.

* * *

Draco slipped into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He'd just come from another round with the cabinet and it had, yet again, been a wasted hour. A letter from his Father this morning had come with more disguised threats ("Our dearest associate sends his regards"), and he had barely been able to keep a blank face for the benefit of his housemates.

"Oh it's you again," the ghost said. Her voice clearly showed her irritation. She gave a huff and disappeared, leaving him very much alone. He sunk to the floor and tucked his knees to his chest, his misery slowly leaking from his eyes. He closed them and tried to shut the world out.

It didn't work. Draco heard the door open and immediately made as if to rise, forgetting that the sink was above his head. "Bloody hell," he swore as he felt the collision.

"Sorry," a voice said hesitantly. "I didn't mean to startle you…again, I guess."

Draco swore again, pulling his wand out and training it on the other boy. "Do you have a death wish, Mudblood?" he snarled. "Get the hell out."

Creevey didn't flinch. "I want to help you."

Draco was on the verge of cursing Creevey when he heard the words, and for a moment stood still, blank shock running though him before reason kicked in. "You're Potter's hero-worshiper. You just want to help him fulfill some plot to humiliate me," he said scathingly.

"If Harry decided to hatch a plot to humiliate you," Creevey said carefully, "I'd be the last person he'd ask."

Draco snorted, but didn't say anything. He considered cursing the younger boy once more. As if he sensed this, Creevey spoke. "I developed my pictures."

_Damn him._ It's as if he knew exactly what to say to stay Draco's wand hand. "So?" he said with as much force as he could muster.

"So you look like you could use a friendly ear."

"And you're offering." He laughed bitterly. "I don't need some filthy little – "

"I think you do," Creevey broke in. "I think you do, and I want to help. And I'm not going to give up on you."

Draco gave another bitter laugh. "I don't want _anyone's_ help, much less _yours_, Creevey. Get lost." He didn't give the other boy a chance to respond; with a flick of his wrist he shot a hex at Creevey, who only just barely dodged the jet of light.

"I'll be back," Creevey said as he stood straight once more. "I'll be here for you, whether you want me to or not." He left quietly, his words hanging in the air.

Draco let him go unharmed, more because he couldn't afford to waste time in detention than anything else. Angry, he started to pace back and forth. Who the bloody hell did Creevey think he was anyway, offering his _help_ to a Malfoy? As if he would have anything to do with a Gryffindor, and a muggle born one at that. He stopped pacing as a thought hit him like a thunderbolt. Creevey was going to be a problem. How would he be able to work on his mission without being noticed? It didn't sound like he was put off at all by Draco's uncooperative attitude.


	2. Learning to Listen

"Fuck," Draco swore quietly. He didn't have the energy to scream. He didn't even have the energy to cry. All he could do was sit curled in a ball on the floor and try to pretend that the world had stopped, at least for a little while. Time was running out for him.

He looked up when the bathroom door opened. Creevey strode in confidently, his book bag slung over his shoulder carelessly. Draco couldn't even force himself to yell at him, much less throw a hex. He laid his head back down on his knees and firmly ignored the other boy.

Moments passed in silence. Draco was surprised that it didn't feel awkward, but he was too tired to waste his energy on any type of emotion. Creevey didn't speak, for which he was somewhat resentfully grateful.

It was only when he stood up to leave for dinner nearly an hour later that he realized Creevey was sitting on the floor reading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five_. He raised an eyebrow in disbelief but left without a word.

The next day Draco was scarcely surprised when Creevey showed up again, once more settling down to read his spell book in silence. He paid no heed to him, save to scowl at the Gryffindor when he entered.

The day after that, he growled "What the hell are you playing at, anyway?" as he walked past the boy to leave. Creevey simply smiled at him, which Draco found quite unnerving, and said softly, "I told you I'd be back, remember?"

For the next few weeks Creevey continued to silently read his spell books or work on homework when he visited Draco in the abandoned girls' bathroom. He constantly showed up five minutes after Draco, like clockwork. Draco always ignored the other boy. He supposed he could have easily found another hiding place for when he wanted to disappear from the world for awhile, but he didn't want to waste precious time searching. And he sure as hell wasn't going to use the Room of Requirement; he spent enough time in there looking for ways to repair that damn cabinet.

He was so used to their odd little arrangement that he was startled when Creevey started talking. "I cornered Myrtle in the boy's bathroom the other day. I asked her for a picture, and she seemed really flattered. Allowed me to take a few."

Draco stared at the other boy, somewhat shocked at the casual way he had spoken. Creevey wasn't looking at him; his gaze was directed toward his homework, which he was frowning at slightly. He seemed to be speaking almost absentmindedly. He didn't feel like answering the other boy's odd statements, so he ignored them, bringing his head back down to rest on his knees. Creevey didn't seem to care about the lack of response, for he kept talking. "She seemed to enjoy posing for the camera. I have more than enough to show my Mum and Pop when I see them again. I suppose I could send them by owl post, but I'd rather see their faces. They're always amazed at the things I show them from the magical world."

_Filthy Mudbloods_, Draco thought idly, but didn't vocalize his thoughts. While Creevey's words were irritating, the tone of his voice was somewhat soothing. He didn't allow himself to dwell on such an unclean thought, however, merely losing himself in the empty numbness that came from listening to the sound of Creevey speaking.

"Bloody hell," Creevey said in exasperation a moment later, "If I'd known Divination was going to be like this, I wouldn't have elected to take it. I mean, the _subject_ is fascinating, but I don't think I have the Sight at all, and it makes doing homework frustrating."

Draco heard the sound of papers rustling and then there was silence. He couldn't help himself. He looked up at the other boy, and the way that Creevey was concentrating on his work made some foreign emotion fill his stomach.

He looked quickly away.

* * *

"What are the uses for bezoars again…?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he listened to Creevey mutter to himself about his latest assignment. He knew the answer, of course; but he saw no reason why he should impart his knowledge. The answer was in the book, after all. He let his mind go blank once more.

"It can cure most poisons….ah, of course…."

Draco lifted his head sharply, causing Creevey to pause in his musings. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking the question, but Draco barely noticed. He lowered his head, and the other boy went back to his mutterings.

_Poison_. Draco thought for several long moments, turning the idea around in his head. For the first time, he thought he might see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. His other plan needed some more thought, and the cabinet sure wasn't cooperating, but just maybe he could make this idea work. It would, however, require him to acquire a substance and a way to slip it unnoticed past those on the lookout for such things.

He was so lost in thought he didn't notice when Creevey left the room.

* * *

Draco needed to _think_. He walked laps slowly around the circled cluster of sinks, his hands on his arms. He could feel the hard muscles under his fingers, and rubbed them unconsciously. He paid no attention to Creevey, sitting in his customary position on the floor. The only way he could see the idea working was as a Christmas present, and that was still a ways away yet. That left him with only two other options, one of which was probably months away from a solution. He sighed quietly.

"I know it's a bit early, but I'm going to buy my family's Christmas gifts the next Hogsmeade weekend we have," Creevey said. Draco disregarded this; by now he was used to the times when the younger boy would randomly speak. "I think I'm going to get my Pop a chocolate frog, but I don't know what I'm going to get Mum or Dennis."

There was a long pause, and then Creevey spoke again. "Last year my Pop gave Mum a necklace. It was a really expensive one. He told her he bought it with his Christmas bonus, but I overheard him tell my Uncle Danny the real story. He was shopping for gifts when he made a quick trip to the loo. The men's queue was ridiculously long for some reason, but there was no one in the women's, so he nipped in real quick. Found the necklace on the floor." Creevey paused, and then said sheepishly, "He knew he should have put it in the lost and found, but he really wanted to give Mum something special that year."

Despite himself, Draco found himself thinking about Creevey's story. It really was rather remarkable that an odd chain of events had led to finding the necklace that would –

Draco caught his breath. Necklace. Bathroom. The Hogsmeade weekend coming up. This could be his best shot. Hell, maybe his only one, if the other things didn't pan out. He shook his head, nearly snorting aloud. Damn that Gryffindor. He might have dirty blood, but at least he wasn't completely useless.

The next two days Draco spent his free time putting his plan into motion. By the third day, there was little to do but wait for the Hogsmeade weekend.

* * *

As he popped into the abandoned bathroom once more, the words of his Mother's last letter ran through his brain: _I'm praying with all my heart that you are studying diligently._ Fear rushed through him anew; to an outsider those words may have seemed innocent enough, but he could hear the plea behind them as clear as day.

In a fit of rage he lashed out, hitting his fist against the cold marble of the white sink in front of him. It stung badly, but the pain took his mind off of the turmoil in his mind. He stood, leaning over the sink, his head pressed against the glass of the mirror, his breathing shallow and heavy, and allowed the pain to numb him.

It was only when he went to leave, his healed hand already on the doorknob, when he noticed Creevey wasn't in the room.

He didn't know why that made him angry.

He was still irritated two days later, when Creevey sauntered into the bathroom, his book bag once more thrown over his shoulder. Twenty minutes later he still hadn't spoken. The boy sat chewing at the end of his quill, his attention on what looked like Charms homework. For some reason this infuriated Draco even more. On some level he knew he was being irrational. His temper, however, was on a short fuse these days. At last he couldn't take it anymore. "Where were you?" he spat out.

Creevey looked up and for a moment stared blankly at Draco, and with a jolt he realized that this was the first time he'd spoken to Creevey in weeks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Draco snapped, "why didn't you come two days ago?"

"I got caught trying to enter," Creevey said. He sounded surprised. "One of the Ravenclaw Prefects. Took five points away for 'being a peeping tom'. Never mind that this bathroom is abandoned." He rolled his eyes.

Draco crossed his arms and looked away. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"I didn't think you'd care. But you do." It wasn't a question.

"Fuck no. _You're_ the one who said you weren't going to leave me alone. I thought I'd finally gotten rid of you for good," Draco said, incensed.

Creevey shook his head. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"I could _make_ you leave."

"Then why don't you?" Creevey challenged.

"Because quite frankly, you're not worth the time or the trouble," Draco threw back.

Creevey didn't respond. He went back to his Charms homework, leaving Draco to pace back and forth.


	3. The Necklace

"So then Dennis told me that she told him – "

"Would you shut up!" Draco said irritably. Normally Creevey's chatter was rather relaxing, but it was the day before the Hogsmeade weekend and he was trying to concentrate on his plan of action.

Creevey stopped talking immediately. Draco took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. "Oh fuck," he blurted out without thinking, "I've got to bloody wrap it still."

"There's plenty of time before Christmas to wrap gifts," Creevey piped up.

"This isn't a Christmas present," he snapped. "Damn, the one thing I didn't think about, bloody tissue paper or something to wrap it with." He sighed. There was a rustle and then he heard footsteps approach him. He turned quickly. Creevey stood feet away, a small roll of chocolate-brown wrapping paper in his hand. "It's not much, but here, take this."

Draco blinked at him. He hated the idea of accepting the offer, but finding such a thing on short notice would be next to impossible. He took the roll without a word, stowing it in a pocket in his robes.

Creevey moved back to his books. Draco stared at him a moment. This Gryffindor was a puzzle. Why was he still here, even after Draco's never ending silence only occasionally punctured with scathing comments or insults?

* * *

Colin didn't know it, but Malfoy's thoughts were similar to his own at that very moment.

He sat back down amongst his schoolbooks and pretended to read, but he couldn't focus. He hadn't expected Malfoy to thank him for the use of his wrapping paper, but the blasted bloke hadn't even nodded or acknowledged the gesture in any way. Why did he stick around, when Malfoy very clearly didn't want his company? Why did he keep coming back only to be insulted the few times his presence was even recognized?

_And yet_, Colin reasoned, _if he really didn't want me around, why does he allow it?_ It would be easy enough to ditch him and find a new place to hide out. Colin couldn't follow Malfoy every moment of the day. And he remembered that Malfoy knew about the Room of Requirement; why didn't he just use it as his hiding place?

He raised his head slowly up to look at the blonde boy who sat with his eyes closed in a corner across the room. He seemed to be deep in thought. The longer he looked, the stronger his stomach tingled, and Colin knew what it was – but he was also aware that it was a complicated and impossible fantasy. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, but the thoughts wouldn't stop, so he started to talk to chase them away. "I'm going to take pictures of Hogsmeade tomorrow. More in depth photos than I've done before, you know. I took some basic pictures back in my third year, but I'd like to be able to get some detailed ones of the village. They'll be better than what I would have taken a couple of years ago anyway. Over last summer break I took a photography class – actually a couple of them. I took one Muggle class and one magical one. It's fascinating how the art of photography is essentially the same and yet so vastly different. Take depth of field shots, for example. On a Muggle camera – "

"Creevey! Shut up!" Malfoy's eyes snapped open to glare at him. "As much as it normally fascinates me to hear about your terribly exciting life" – the Slytherin's tone dripped with sarcasm – "for once, would you just shut up!"

"If you want me to shut up," Colin said boldly, "then you need to start talking."

"And why would I do that?"

"Words, when held in too long, have a funny way of coming out when we don't want them to, in places and to people we'd rather not have details of our lives," Colin said somewhat cryptically.

"I suppose you speak from experience," Malfoy sneered.

"I do, actually. But don't try to change the subject. We're not talking about me."

Malfoy sniffed haughtily. "Your concern is _quite_ touching, but there's no cause for it. I'm rather well self-contained."

"For a bloke so well self-contained, you sure do lose your cool a hell of a lot," Colin retorted. "Just how many fights have you picked with other students this year, anyway?"

"I'll have you know the number is very low this year." Malfoy's tone sounded highly irritated.

"Unless it's Harry Potter – "

Malfoy laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "The _Chosen One_? He doesn't even count! He's just a convenient way to unload my frustrations."

"And what," Colin said without considering his choice of words, "could the seemingly perfect pampered, spoiled, arrogant Malfoy Junior have going on in his life that would cause frustrations that came out in such volatile spurts of temper?"

Malfoy looked liked he'd been slapped. Colin felt a surge of something like triumph. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but after so many weeks of being patient it felt good to let out some of his own frustration. "And," he continued relentlessly, "What could make him spend hours each week in an abandoned girl's bathroom feeling sorry for himself and sobbing his eyes out?"

"You don't – " Malfoy caught himself, his eyes wide.

"I don't what? Understand? _Than make me_." Colin looked straight into the other boy's eyes.

* * *

Draco's grey eyes looked back into Creevey's, and for the first time he noticed that the Gryffindor's eyes were brown. He didn't know what to say. Creevey had caught him off guard; he had never attacked Draco like this before. He didn't know how to handle this right now. His mind was half stuck on tomorrow's plan and this was not a conversation he was prepared to deal with.

"Make me understand," Creevey repeated. "Because to be right down bloody honest, I don't understand. I don't understand how someone so full of pain, who clearly feels lost and alone and is hurting so deeply, can willingly cause that same pain in other people!"

Draco found himself unable to breathe. He choked out, "Because it makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I have some control over my own life." He'd spoken without thinking, the words simply falling from his lips of their own volition, and as soon as he said them he wished like hell he could take them back.

Creevey didn't say anything, and the silence dragged on and on, and Draco found he couldn't take the quiet that spoke too much. "I can't step a toe out of line. I don't have a choice. He's controlling my whole life. And I hate it. But I _don't have a choice._"

"There's always a choice," Creevey said quietly.

Draco laughed hollowly. "Like that's even an option. I value my life too much, fuck if I know why."

"So you've considered – "

Draco looked up at the other boy when he didn't finish his sentence. He shrugged, suddenly aware of what he'd said. "In passing, perhaps. But I value my family's lives more than my own, and He would – " Draco broke off, horrified at himself for revealing so much.

"Who would do what to your family?" Creevey asked, sounding almost – _concerned_. Draco shook his head to clear it. "No one," he said shortly. "Nothing. Just forget it."

Creevey seemed to know it would be useless to argue, for he didn't protest, and after a minute Draco stood up and left the room without a backward glance.

* * *

Colin watched the Slytherin carefully for the rest of the day and the next morning at breakfast, but the other boy didn't make another trip to Myrtle's bathroom. His curiosity was burning so strongly that it was with some reluctance that he allowed his friends to drag him to Hogsmeade.

Some hours later, Colin trudged through the snow. He'd just come from The Three Broomsticks, but the butterbeer he'd downed had not been enough to fully warm him. He pulled the scarf tighter around his neck, but even as he did so a scream, clearly female, cut through the air. The wind was howling, so whoever it was must be close. He rushed toward the sound, pulling his camera out from underneath his heavy cloak – even in unknown situations such as this he was still a photographer first – and after several feet was able to make out the figure of a girl, suspended in the air, still shrieking loudly. He saw that she wasn't alone; four figures surrounded her. Two of them were trying to pull the girl down.

_Click click click_. His camera took pictures as fast as he could take them, capturing the scene as it unfolded: the girl fell on top of two of the figures, flattening them. Another figure sprinted away; Colin assumed they were going for help. Putting his camera away, he moved to rush over to see if he could aid in any way, but he'd barely gone a foot before something smacked him on the face. He peeled the offending object off with some difficulty and nearly stopped breathing when he was able to take a good look at it.

It was wrapping paper. It looked an awful lot like the one he had, in fact. He looked at it a long moment, his brain seeming to want to make a connection but unable to. At last, Colin shrugged and put the brown paper in his pocket and started forward again only to trip and fall flat on his face with a low grunt. He raised his head and brushed snow from his eyes. Laughing ruefully, he stood up and looked around. He found he was alone. Squinting, he could just make out five figures moving quickly away from him, but they disappeared, swallowed up by the swirling white winds.

Colin hurried to catch up. He had to know what had just happened. When he got back to the castle, however, he could find no one who knew of the incident. At last he made his way to the common room. Gryffindor Tower was quite full; it seemed as though the bad weather had forced most people to return from the village earlier than normal. He slumped onto an empty armchair. From the sound of pleasant chatter and loud laughter, he assumed the news of what happened had not yet reached his housemates.

"…wasn't a very slick attack, though, when you think about it," said a voice from behind him, and Colin turned around quickly in his seat to see Ron talking to Harry and Hermione. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," he heard Hermione say. "It wasn't…" but they had moved out of earshot. Colin stood up, intending to ask them what they knew, but was impeded by a second year who wanted photography tips. By the time he'd finished talking to the little Pippi Longstocking lookalike, the three sixth years had left the room.

Colin sighed, debating whether or not to go looking for them before he remembered his pictures. Ducking out of the portrait hole, he made his way to the darkroom, his camera in hand.

He worked a little quicker than normal, eager to see his shots. He wished he could make the drying process go faster. He'd once tried a Drying Spell but while it worked with magical pictures it didn't work as well with muggle pictures, and he valued quality.

Slowly, the images came into view. He studied them carefully. The swirling snow made it difficult to see clearly, and the fact that the people were bundled up to ward off the cold didn't help either. He looked closely at one of the first pictures. There seemed to be something in the girl's hand but he couldn't make it out. He waved his wand, magically zooming in on her right hand. It was a bit pixilated, but it looked like a torn piece of paper. He sighed. The photos didn't really tell him much.

A thought struck him, and he pulled the brown paper that had hit him in the face out of his pocket and studied it carefully. He stared at the photo and then back at the paper in his hand. It looked like it was the same bit of wrapping paper. And if that was the case – he looked at it again. It sure appeared like the stuff he'd lent Malfoy. And if that was true, whoever had been on the receiving end of this wrapped package –

Colin let out another sigh. He knew he was making a rather large assumption. He didn't even know if this was the same paper. And even if it was, it didn't necessarily incriminate the boy; Malfoy might have let someone else use it. Still…the pieces seemed to all add up to one theory. Whatever Malfoy was a part of seemed to be much bigger and darker than he'd originally imagined, not that he'd really had any ideas to begin with, but still, he hadn't expected this, whatever _this_ was. He wished he could ask Malfoy about it, but knew the Slytherin would only clam up if he tried.

But could he be patient enough to wait for Malfoy to come to him?

* * *

Draco walked into the bathroom quickly. He was so upset he hadn't even checked to see if anyone was in the corridor before he'd entered. He leaned against the wall, his hands reaching up to clutch at his head. He'd just heard that Katie Bell had been sent to St. Mungo's. His plan had not succeeded; the necklace had failed to reach its intended target, and he'd nearly killed an innocent pure blood instead –

His breath came in short gasps. _He'd nearly killed someone._ She might be a Gryffindor, but she was also a pure blood, and that counted for something. _And_, he thought, _she's a living breathing human_. He'd nearly –

Draco slid down the wall. He felt sick. _I can't do this._ "I have to do this!" he shouted. _I can't do this._

He was so lost his own misery that it startled him when a hand tentatively touched his shoulder. He jerked away before he realized it was Creevey. He curled back up, unable to make himself brush the other boy's touch off; he was too distraught and it felt too damn good.

And when he heard Creevey's whispered, "Tell me," Draco didn't have the energy to fight the words that came spilling out of his mouth. Haltingly, he spoke, his voice loud in the total silence of the bathroom. "What if I told you that what happened to that girl was my fault? That was my fault. My fault."

Creevey didn't say anything, so Draco continued, a sudden need to say it out loud squeezing his chest. "I nearly killed her. Oh Merlin what if I did kill her? What if she's dead and the news hasn't spread yet? What if –?"

"Shhh," Creevey soothed softly. "You'll make yourself crazy if you think about the what ifs."

"But I am going crazy already!" Draco burst out. "I didn't mean to hurt her, she wasn't supposed to be the one – and now nothing has changed, nothing except I've nearly – " He broke off.

"Why are you trying to – hurt – someone?" Creevey asked, and Draco heard the hesitation in his tone. He was thankful the other boy had not asked him _who_, only _why_. "I have no choice," he said as he roughly wiped his eyes. "He will kill my parents if I don't do this. I have to do this. Family – they're all I have in this world. _I have to do this_."

"He?"

"The Dark Lord," Draco whispered.

"Why you?"

"I can get close to – this person. No one else can do that."

Creevey was silent for a long moment, and then – "I won't ask who it is. But I do want to know if it's Harry Potter."

Draco shook his head. "Potter belongs to the Dark Lord."

He saw Creevey nod in his peripheral vision. He didn't speak, and neither did Draco.

It wasn't until Creevey's hand left his shoulder that Draco realized how incredibly comforting the other boy's touch had felt.


	4. Of Breaking & Building Walls

"Colin? Are you okay?"

Colin blinked and focused on his brother sitting across from him. "Yeah I'm fine, why?"

"You haven't taken a single picture of your meal," Dennis said. "And you only do that when you're deep in thought."

Colin shook his head. It always amazed him how perceptive his younger brother was. "Just thinking about a friend who's going through a hard time."

Dennis nodded. "Anything I can help with?"

"No," Colin said. "But thanks for offering."

Dennis flashed him a quick smile and turned his attention back to the plate in front of him. Colin took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he automatically started to eat once more. He couldn't stop thinking about what Malfoy had told him earlier. He hadn't mentioned that he'd already suspected that Malfoy was behind Katie's attack. He'd wanted the boy to tell him on his own, but hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Colin felt torn. Malfoy had basically admitted that he had a mission to kill someone – while he hadn't specifically said _kill_, that necklace sure hadn't been meant to simply injure. Katie had been lucky, from what he'd inferred from what McGonagall had said when she'd addressed Gryffindor House.

He knew he should tell someone. And yet – what would happen to Malfoy if he told? What would happen to his parents? Was there even anyone he could truly trust with this information?

What if he just walked away? But no – Colin dismissed that idea right away. He'd promised to help, and if it was one thing his Mum had taught him, it was that you always kept your promises. He sipped his pumpkin juice thoughtfully. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't just back out now anyway. He had started to grow rather fond of the other boy.

* * *

Draco watched Creevey from across the Great Hall. He ignored the speculation of his classmates around him; the news of Katie Bell's hospitalization had spread rather quickly, but he wasn't interested in talking about her attack. He narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"Why are you staring daggers at the Gryffindors, darling?" Pansy simpered. Her hand brushed up against his arm teasingly.

"Had a fight with Potter again, did you?" Blaise chimed in from across the table.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of staring off into space?"

Blaise shrugged and went back to his food. Pansy just laughed as though he'd said something funny and turned to talk to Tracey Davis.

Draco tore his eyes away from across the hall and stared at his plate instead. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment, but he didn't really want to dwell on it. He still had a mission to complete.

After dinner he nodded at Vince and Greg, who indicated with their eyes that they understood; they stood up and left the Great Hall. Draco waited another five minutes before he left the table as well. He passed a couple of seventh year girls in the seventh floor corridor and made a show of checking them out; he knew Vince and Greg hated it and couldn't resist teasing the two of them once more. The two "girls" scowled at him as he passed. He laughed to himself as he entered the Room of Hidden Things.

His good mood disappeared quickly, however. Once more his attempts to fix the large cabinet failed, and he headed back to the Slytherin dungeons in low spirits.

He lay awake for hours that night. He felt exhausted but couldn't relax his mind. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about Creevey. Why hadn't the Gryffindor run once he'd learned what Draco was attempting to do? And why hadn't he told anyone yet? Was he waiting? Would he try to blackmail him…?

When a week had gone by and nothing changed, Draco decided it was time to have a conversation. He was tired of obsessing over Creevey's motivations and intentions when he had more important things to worry about. For the first time since Katie Bell's hospitalization, and what seemed like the hundredth time this year, Draco entered the girls' bathroom. He knew it wouldn't be long before his Gryffindor shadow joined him.

Creevey didn't keep him waiting long.

Draco turned at the sound of the door opening. Creevey slipped in, breathing hard. At the Slytherin's raised eyebrow he panted, "Had to run to Gryffindor Tower for my schoolbooks. I wasn't expecting one of your bathroom breaks right now."

Some part of Draco's brain noted that Creevey's words made him feel surprised in a rather pleasant way, but he dismissed it quickly. Bluntly, he asked, "Why haven't you told anyone?"

Creevey froze in the middle of pulling a book out of his bag. He met Draco's questioning gaze. "I told you before, I'm here to help you. And ratting you out didn't sound like it would help you. It sounded like it might get you and your family killed, and I don't want that."

Draco blinked, completely taken aback. He hadn't expected such an honest answer. "Why do you care, anyway?" He'd meant the words to sound aggressive, but instead they'd come out in a quiet, disparaging tone.

"I've been asking myself the same question," Creevey said bluntly. "Look, I know what it's like to need a friend. I went to Muggle primary schools before I got my Hogwarts letter, and I was always the odd one out, the one who was teased and worse over things I couldn't control. I know how valuable it is to have someone who listens and is there and doesn't judge. And you seem like you need that now, and I want to help you because – I see someone worth helping."

Draco was silent for a long moment. Creevey's candor was somewhat refreshing, loath as he was to admit it, and he pondered what he'd been told. Someone to listen without judgment – he wanted that, _needed_ it, because he didn't think he could keep these secrets much longer. Yet this information could not leave this room. His family's very lives depended on it.

"You won't tell anyone. Not ever. No matter what I say, I have to know you won't tell anyone anything." His voice was low, and each syllable was pronounced with a heavy weight.

Creevey nodded immediately. "I promise." He paused, and seemed to consider something. "And if it makes you feel better I'll make the Unbreakable Vow."

Draco wrinkled his nose. He wasn't fond of Unbreakable Vows; he'd watched Voldemort do enough of them. "No, that won't be necessary."

They looked at each other a long moment. Draco saw the expectation in Creevey's eyes but now that he could speak he found that he couldn't find words. He started to pace the room just for something to do, and the sound of his footsteps filled the air between them. Draco's thoughts wandered, and without consciously thinking about it, he began to talk out loud. "When I was about seven, my Father took me to work with him one day. 'It's time you learned how wizards interact in the real world, son,' he told me. I watched him all day, talking, negotiating, and I realized one thing. No matter who he dealt with, be it someone with higher or lesser power, he was sympatric to their needs. He made it seem like he cared about what they wanted, what they thought. I knew him though. I knew he wasn't being genuine with most of them. When I asked him why he acted that way, he said that trust is the most important weapon one can have. 'If people trust you, they will not expect it when the time comes to use them,' he told me."

Draco paused for a moment before he continued. "I've never forgotten his lesson. But see, I've never been particularly good at getting people to trust me. I'm not as eloquent as Father, and I often speak before I think, and that gets me into trouble often….of course, I have had to learn restraint, these last several months. But I'm never going to be like Father, and that's all I ever wanted to be. My whole life I've thought of him as a hero." He slammed his fist into the wall as he passed. "But even heroes have weaknesses. And now I'm expected to be the hero in his place_. But I'm not one and I don't think I can be_."

The last sentence had come out as a shout, and Draco stopped talking; astonishment ran though him at how much had poured out of his mouth. He found he was breathing quite heavily.

"A true hero knows their weakness and uses it to their advantage," Creevey said slowly, and Draco flinched. He'd nearly forgotten the other boy was in the room. He considered Creevey's words. "Perhaps so," he said in agreement, "but I'm still learning what my weaknesses are."

Creevey inclined his head, conceding his point, and another silence fell. "What were you teased about?" Draco said randomly. He didn't really want to talk about himself anymore; the memory he'd spoken about had drained him.

"What?"

"You said you were teased. In Muggle schools."

"Oh." Creevey looked at him, and he could see the surprise written across his face. Draco supposed it was because he'd shown an interest in Creevey's Muggle past. "I was always a bit of an outcast. Instead of playing sports or anything else the other boys did, I wandered around with a camera and a book on photography. If I wasn't in class I was reading or taking photos. Never had friends, really, not until I came here. Most kids either teased me or stayed away from me. A few tormented me, only that didn't last long once they found out that I was taking pictures of what they did to me and showing them to my parents, who then used them as evidence when they reported the incidents to the school."

"That was smart of you," Draco said, impressed despite himself.

Creevey shrugged. "Most kids hide things from their parents. I never did. Never felt like I had to. Mum and Pop have always treated me with respect, like an actual human."

Draco considered that. "I never hide anything from my Mother. She's always treated me like my feelings matter, like I matter. My Father – it's a bit more complicated. I know he cares about me, but I also feel like he expects so much of me, and I don't want to disappoint him, so if I do something I think he'll disapprove of I don't mention it if I can help it."

Creevey gave a soft sigh. "No matter how hard they try not to, parents always manage to impress upon their children their expectations. And as their children, we feel we have to live up to their expectations, their ideas of what is right, what is proper."

"It is our duty to do so," Draco retorted, irritated.

"We are our own individuals," Creevey threw back at him, although not unkindly. "Our parents may raise us, but we have the right to live our lives our own way."

Draco shook his head, unable to accept the idea but unwilling to defend his position. He was suddenly very tired. He stopped pacing and sat down.

Neither one of them broke this silence.

In the days and weeks that followed, a different pattern emerged. Draco's voice was now the one that was most often heard during their meetings. It was as though a dam had been broken, for he found he could not stop talking now that he'd started. He was constantly amazed at how _much_ there was to say. His past, his present, even the things he'd dreamed of for the future – all the things he'd rarely, if ever, said out loud before came spilling out.

And Creevey listened to every word. He didn't speak much, if at all, and Draco was strangely grateful. He didn't want advice, or pity, or any number of useless clichés that could be said – he simply needed to talk, and it seemed Creevey understood this.

Christmastime arrived, and while his classmates talked excitedly about parties and gifts and who they wanted to kiss under the mistletoe, Draco was not at all in the mood for such frivolous things. He'd managed to set up the plan he'd thought of that day when Creevey had been muttering about bezoars and poisons, and now all that was left to do was wait. And work on that damn cabinet. He had permanent dark circles under his eyes now, from all the nights he'd stayed up past curfew.

It was just his luck that one such night he was caught by Filch. It was, of course, extremely fortunate that the night in question happened to be the evening of the Christmas party thrown by Professor Slughorn. It was very unfortunate, however, that Professor Snape happened to be attending said party, and he was still fuming about his encounter with his Head of House when he met with Creevey the next day.

"…trying to steal my glory, all under the guise of _helping_ me! He suspects that the Bell girl's attack was me, tried to tell me off for being foolish and clumsy." He laughed coldly. "Even tried Occlumency on me, but joke's on him – I've been taught quite well how to hide my thoughts. Mother insisted I learn, for which I'm thankful. Had Aunt Bella teach me."

"She's a little odd, but she's incredibly brilliant at Occlumency, and I fought hard to learn the art," he continued. "As devoted as she is to _Him_, she values family as highly as my parents do, though in a somewhat different way."

"Different how?" Creevey piped up curiously.

"Well," Draco said thoughtfully, "my parents value family for family's sake. But Aunt Bella – she values family because of what they can do to further the cause. So while my Mom wanted me to learn to shield my mind so I could protect myself, Aunt Bella wanted me to learn because it gives me a better chance to succeed at my given mission."

Creevey was silent at this, and Draco spoke again. "I overheard the three of them talking right before they told me she would teach me."

"Do you – do you believe in the cause?" Creevey asked abruptly.

"Yes," he said shortly, his tone making it clear that he didn't want to talk about it.

Creevey was quiet, and Draco could almost hear the disapproval in the air but knew he was simply projecting his discomfort with the topic, so he started to talk in an attempt to avoid the anxiety he felt. "I received another letter from Mother the other day. She didn't say much but I could read between the lines. _He_ is angry there have been no results. I don't know what to _do_. The thing I'm working on isn't going well and the other thing hasn't worked yet either and I don't have any other ideas."

He took at deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't wait for this whole thing to be over. And I can't wait to take the NEWTS and graduate. I just want to be done with school."

"What do you want to do when you leave school?"

He shrugged. "Something business related, perhaps. What about yourself?"

"It's probably obvious." Creevey chuckled. "I want to open my own photography business, ideally. But I wouldn't mind working for a newspaper. Not the _Daily Prophet_, though."

"Or _The Quibbler_." Draco snorted.

"Eh, that wouldn't be so bad to start out with. But I wouldn't want to stay there forever."

"It would get your foot in the door," he mused idly.

"Yes it would." Creevey stood up. "You coming to dinner?"

"In a minute."

The Gryffindor nodded and moved to leave, but turned around when he reached the door. "Happy Christmas," he said.

"Happy Christmas," Draco repeated.


	5. Poisonous Plans

Draco walked along the hallways blindly; a restless energy filled him and he needed to keep moving. Christmas, the New Year – the holiday season was over, and yet there hadn't been any news as to the success or failure of his other plan. The waiting was difficult, and he desperately wanted to hear it had worked. Magical carpentry wasn't his forte, after all.

As he walked though one corridor, he heard the sound of a voice coming from a room just ahead. He located where it was coming from and pressed his ear to the door to listen. "…brewed you right," the voice from within was saying. "But why aren't you working?"

Draco would know that voice anywhere. Impulsively he entered the room. Creevey turned at the sound of the door opening and his eyes widened in shock. "Draco! What are you doing here?"

Thrown by the sound of his name coming from the Gryffindor's lips, his reply of _I could ask you the same question_ died before it made it out of his mouth. Creevey seemed to realize what he'd said, for he flushed and stammered out, "Sorry, for the, um, over-familiarity."

Draco moved to look around the room to give himself time to think. The emotions that had bubbled up inside at hearing his name were confusing. "So this is your photography room?" he asked, to cover the tension of the moment.

"Yeah," Creevey – Colin? – said carefully. "Darkroom is the technical term for it."

Draco looked at the pictures hanging from a line stretched across the room. "Why aren't they moving?"

"They're Muggle pictures. Sometimes I do magical ones, but that requires a potion that is difficult to make. I've only managed to make it correctly once. This batch" – he waved his hand at a cauldron in the corner of the room – "went wrong somewhere and I don't know where."

Draco stepped over to the cauldron and peered inside. "When did you add the Rose Oil?"

"Right before I added the flower heads."

"There's your problem," Draco said. "They need to be added at precisely the same time, while stirring clockwise."

"The book doesn't say that!"

Draco shrugged. "I've experimented with a lot of different potions. Found a few tricks of the trade."

"Thank you."

Draco nodded stiffly. An awkward sort of silence fell, and he turned back to the photos drying on the line. "Most people think of me as simply a Malfoy," he said somewhat haltingly while looking at a picture of a snowball fight between five heavily snow-covered figures. "There aren't that many people who think of me as Draco, but I – like it. That you do, I mean. So you – have my permission to call me by my given name."

"Thank you," the other boy repeated, with feeling. "And likewise, you may call me by my given name if – if you want to."

Draco nodded once more. "Do you have more ingredients for the Developing Solution?"

"Yeah." Colin gestured to a nearby cupboard. "I buy them in Hogsmeade."

"Let's get to work then."

Twenty minutes later, the potion started to bubble a perfect pale pink color. "It will turn translucent when done," Draco murmured.

"That's what it said in the textbook," Colin replied. "But even the one batch I made that worked didn't turn translucent."

"How did that batch work?"

"It wasn't too bad. The people moved about half the normal speed, but they still moved so I was rather pleased with it anyway."

"Does anyone know that you use this room?"

"Yes." Colin laughed, and Draco suddenly wished he could hear that sound more often. "Professor McGonagall allowed me to use this room as a permanent thing. She kept finding me all over the school. The last time it happened I was in her Transfiguration classroom, and I gave her such a fright she dropped the stack of books she was carrying."

Draco gave a shout of laughter, unable to help himself; the thought of the stern Professor dropping books from being startled was too peculiar not to be funny. "What?" he asked when his companion looked at him oddly.

"I've never heard you really laugh before," Colin said in wonder.

Draco looked away, embarrassed. "I know it seems strange to you," he said, "but I used to laugh a lot. My life hasn't always been so – cheerless. It's only been since – "

"Since when?" Colin prompted when he didn't continue.

"Since…since the summer after my fifth year," he whispered.

"And yet – you still believe in the cause?" Colin asked. He wasn't attacking; his tone was curious, as though he was truly interested in the answer. "You still want Him to win?"

Draco didn't respond right away. "I believe in the cause," he said at last. "I don't know anything else."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I believe in the cause," he repeated. "But I – I wish it wasn't _Him_ in charge." The last few words came out in a whisper. He'd never admitted that before, not even to himself.

Colin nodded and glanced at the cauldron. "Look! It's translucent!"

"So it is," Draco said with a satisfied smirk.

"Thanks for helping me," Colin said somewhat shyly.

"Go on, try it out," Draco said, embarrassed.

Colin went to work. His demeanor immediately became focused, serious. Draco watched him; a strange sort of feeling enveloped him and he tried to place it but couldn't, no matter how much he tried. He shook his head slowly.

"It's perfect," Colin said. "Look at this." He held up the photo, and Draco smiled at the image of a first year girl putting together a snowman and then waving at the camera.

"Of course the potion is perfect," he replied. "I made it."

Colin just laughed and went to work developing the other photographs. Draco leaned back against an old desk and watched. For the first time in a long while, he felt calm, relaxed, as though his problems outside of Colin's darkroom ceased to exist, and for just a moment in time, he almost felt – _happy_.

That feeling, however, was not to last long. Days turned into weeks, and progress on his mission was at an all time low. He lived for his venting sessions and occasional conversations with Colin, which were becoming more and more frequent; nearly every day they met up in the abandoned girl's bathroom or, from time to time, Colin's darkroom.

The latter room was where they were on the first of March. For once, Colin was talking, Draco having exhausted his supply of words. "…and as I entered the Common Room, the first thing I noticed was Lavender and Romilda shouting at each other, something about a Love Potion and Ron and Harry taking him to get sorted out. Pretty much the whole House was listening to the argument, and I figured I wouldn't get any homework done around there so I came here."

"Romilda? The name doesn't sound familiar." Draco frowned in thought.

"She's in my year. We're on friendly terms but I wouldn't exactly call us friends. She's too obsessed with Harry."

"Sounds like you two would get along well," Draco said dryly, and he couldn't help the teasing grin he threw at the Gryffindor.

Colin grinned back but rolled his eyes. "I've grown up a little since then, if you hadn't noticed."

"Point taken," Draco conceded. "I haven't seen you hound him with a camera since what, my third year?"

"Sounds about right."

"Why did you stop following him around, anyway?"

Colin looked at him, his eyes clouded in thought. "Because," he said thoughtfully, "I stopped thinking of him as a hero."

"I've known he wasn't – "

"No," Colin interjected, "you misunderstand. He's someone I look up to – yes he is, don't look at me like that – I look up to him. But he's not a _hero_, the way that they are portrayed in the books and movies I devoured as a child. He's real, he's human, he's a child – just as we all are."

Draco opened his mouth but Colin interrupted him again. "I know you don't believe that. You might not understand what I mean, either. And that's okay."

"Why do you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"We obviously have very different ways of looking at the world. Why don't you care? Why don't you try to change my mind?"

"Friends accept each other for who they are," Colin said simply.

Draco blinked. _We're friends?_ he wanted to say, but didn't. "Do they?" he asked instead, his tone doubtful.

"True friends? Yes."

Draco was quiet, and Colin left him to his very confused thoughts. They departed the room together in silence, exchanging a nod as they split ways.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room had not quieted down when Colin entered after he left the darkroom. If it was possible, the chaos had increased. "What's going on?" he asked a second year boy whose name he did not know.

"Ron Weasley was poisoned," the boy said, his eyes wide with fright.

Colin's mouth dropped open. "How?"

"They're saying it was a bottle of mead."

When the boy couldn't give any more details, Colin asked a few other people until the whole story became clear. Apparently Ron had swallowed a love potion; Harry took him to get an antidote from the Potions Master, who had, at some point, offered up a toast (for what, no one seemed to know, as each account was different); and the drink had been laced with some nasty substance that (rumor had it) had been meant to kill. Exactly who it had been meant to kill, however, no one knew, but there were plenty of guesses.

Fear gripped Colin. Was this, again, Draco's doing? He knew the Slytherin was still working on his mission, though as of yet he had not told Colin who he was trying to hurt. He had tried not to dwell on it as much as possible. He knew that keeping such a secret might very well cost someone their life, and yet – not keeping the secret might also cost lives. This whole situation, Colin thought, was quite a catch-22 and it gave him headaches just thinking about it. Yet no matter how many times he'd mulled it all over he still found himself on the fence. Secretly he knew that his unexpected attraction to the Slytherin was swaying his decision, and while he felt guilty for it he couldn't make himself change his mind – and so, day after day, he had allowed things play out without his influence.

Colin found the answer to his suspicion the next day at the breakfast table. He happened to glance up at the Slytherin table and for a moment he met Draco's gaze. Grey eyes flicked to the side twice, and Colin mirrored him quickly to show he'd understood: that was their signal to meet, to be used only in emergencies. Two minutes later, Draco left the Great Hall. Five minutes after that, Colin followed.

Draco was pacing the length of the bathroom by the time Colin found him, apparently so lost in thought that he didn't even hear him enter. "I'm here," Colin said quietly.

Draco stopped pacing and looked at him. His face was blank, but the turmoil was easily read in his eyes. "You knew that was me." It wasn't a question.

"I guessed, yes."

"I hate Weasley," Draco said savagely. "I hate him, and I wouldn't care if he died, but I don't want him to die now because _I don't want it to be my fault_."

"They say he's going to be okay," Colin informed him. "He'll be in the hospital wing for awhile but he'll make a full recovery."

Draco nodded but didn't look reassured. "I didn't realize it would be this hard," he whispered. "When I took the Mark I thought – I don't even know. But I was proud that I would be the one to bring honor back to my family. I didn't think about this – how difficult it would be to deal with the idea of harming someone." He paused and resumed pacing. "I don't understand this. I hate Weasley, and he's the worst kind of blood traitor – but to know that _I'd_ be responsible for – " He stopped talking, unable to articulate exactly what he was thinking.

But Colin seemed to understand. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Draco."

"It is," Draco insisted. "I have to complete my mission."

Colin started to pace beside him: fourteen steps to the right, fourteen steps to the left. "Tell me something," Draco said abruptly.

"Tell you what?"

"Anything. Just give me something to focus on besides _this_."

"My Mum," Colin said after a moment, "makes these brilliant chocolate hot cakes. When Dennis and I were kids she'd make them every Monday. To 'start our week out right' she'd say." He smiled fondly. "When I first came to Hogwarts that was the thing I missed the most. But then, in my third year, I stumbled upon the kitchens. While I enjoyed a snack I talked to the House Elves about Mum's hot cakes – I didn't think they were really listening, but they must have been because the next Monday there was chocolate hot cakes amongst all the usual breakfast items. And they've been there every Monday since."

Draco nodded to show he was still listening, but chose to keep his less than complementary comments about House Elves to himself. Colin started on another topic once he realized Draco wasn't going to respond. "A year or so before I got my Hogwarts letter I was on a skiing vacation with my friend Jay. He dragged me down a diamond trail – that's the slopes meant for people who can ski well, and neither one of us were experts – and not even a quarter of the way down we both were having trouble. Jay was starting to panic and I wasn't all that calm myself and then there was this odd little rush that went through me and all of a sudden both of us were sprawled in the snow on the bottom of the hill." Colin shook his head in disbelief. "It wasn't the first time something odd like that had occurred around me, but I assumed that I'd just been concentrating so hard on getting down the hill that I'd spaced out during it or something. Jay certainly had no trouble accepting that explanation."

"It turned out," he continued after a moment, "that Jay was a wizard too, although his parents elected to send him to an American school."

Draco snorted. "An American school over Hogwarts. Figures."

"Well he grew up in Colorado. And I don't think his parents were thrilled about sending him to a foreign country."

"Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang , but Mother didn't want to send me so far away."

"I've looked into most of the other Wizarding schools, but none of them sound as brilliant as Hogwarts." Colin shrugged. "You'd have done well in Durmstrang though."

"I would have," Draco said. "Perhaps I wouldn't be stuck in this mess then." His tone was bitter.

"Perhaps so," Colin agreed.


	6. The Confession

Draco needed to _run_. May was rapidly approaching, and while he'd made some progress his plan was nowhere near being finished, and the fear of what would happen if he couldn't do this by the end of term was eating him from the inside out.

Thankful it was early enough on a Saturday that there would be next to no one wandering the grounds, he slid out of the entrance doors and started to run as fast as his legs could carry him. But even when he'd collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, the feeling of flight still –

He sat up. _Flight_. He got up and started to run again, this time with a destination in mind. Five minutes later he was in the air. The practice broom was only a Cleansweep Seven, and just a tad slow, but he didn't care: this was heaven, flying among the clouds.

How long he spent in the air, he didn't know, but at the sight of tiny figures beginning to roam the grounds below he quickly lowered the handle of the broom to land gently on the side of the Quidditch pitch.

"You fly well, Mr. Malfoy," a voice complemented him from somewhere above. He looked up into the stands and only just managed to stop himself from yelping in surprise. "Good morning, Professor."

"Afternoon, I should think by now," Professor Dumbledore mused. "I did not mean to startle you. I was looking for a quiet place outdoors to read my book" – he held up a large volume – "and thought the Quidditch stands would be just the ticket."

"What are you reading, Sir?" Draco asked, simply because he didn't know what else to say.

"_Magical Carpentry_ by Blaine Rene. Quite the fascinating read, if I do say so myself, although I shall never attempt the art, as I've had a few rather disastrous endeavors in my youth. Rene has written of many of his own unfortunate failures, and it has convinced me that carpentry, magical or otherwise, is best left to the experts."

Draco's stomach dropped. "A wise decision," he managed.

The Professor surveyed him for a moment, and Draco felt as though he were being x-rayed. But then the moment was over and the old wizard took his leave.

_What_, Draco thought, _was that about?_ He couldn't know – could he? He shook his head. _It was just a coincidence._ The encounter had left him unnerved, and he decided to walk it off. He left the broom in the shed and turned his steps toward the lake.

He walked automatically, his eyes in front but not really seeing the surroundings, and was shocked out of his thoughts by the sound of his name. He looked up. "What are you doing out here?" he asked by way of greeting.

Colin shrugged. "Just walking. You?"

"Same."

"Want company?"

"Sure."

They walked in silence for awhile. At last Draco spoke, his voice low. "Professor Dumbledore was in the Quidditch stands when I finished flying this morning."

"Oh?" Colin questioned.

"He mentioned something about a book on magical carpentry. It's got to be a coincidence, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's…" Draco hesitated, but he'd been silent too long and the words just fell out – "I have to fix something. A magical cabinet. As part of my mission. But he couldn't know about that, could he?"

"I don't know," Colin said. "He knows a lot that goes around here, I reckon. But some things are just coincidences."

"It has to be. He can't know."

"If he knew, he'd stop you," Colin reasoned. "He wouldn't stand for one of his students being – hurt."

Draco nodded once. "You can say it, you know."

"Say what?"

"Kill." He spoke in a whisper, but the word sounded loud just the same.

Colin went pale, but his voice was even. "You were given a mission to kill someone. You don't find that odd?"

"Odd how?" Draco was confused.

"I mean, why you?"

"I told you, I was the only one who could get close enough to this person to do it," he answered.

"You don't believe that." It wasn't a question.

"I did." Draco frowned. "I don't know what to believe now."

There was a lull in the conversation until Draco spoke again. "He made me feel like he knew though, for just a moment. Professor Dumbledore," he clarified at Colin's confused glance. "It worried me."

"Have you ever considered that he _could_ help you?" Colin asked.

"He can't help me," he said curtly.

"How do you know unless you ask?"

"Oh sure, that'd be a real picnic. 'Excuse me, Professor, but You-Know-Who has given me a mission to kill you, can you help me out?'" He'd spoken without thinking, and when he realized what he said he halted in his tracks. Colin stopped too and turned to face him. "You – Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Draco admitted. He looked down. "Going to run off and tell on me now?" He'd wanted to sound as though he didn't care but didn't think he'd succeeded.

"I should," Colin whispered. "But I won't."

"There are a lot of things I should do," Draco said bitterly. "Or shouldn't have done. But none of that matters now. _This_ is all that matters now."

"I'm scared," Draco continued. "I don't know what will happen to my family or me if I can't complete this by the end of term."

"Can you go into hiding?"

"Maybe," he said doubtfully.

Though they didn't verbalize their intention, they simultaneously started to walk once more. "Do you think death hurts?" Draco asked out of the blue.

"I think it depends on the – method used. Take the Killing Curse, for example. It sounds quicker and easier than falling asleep. But how Muggles sometimes kill – stabbing or beating or something – _that_ would hurt, I think."

"I don't want it to hurt." He knew he sounded weak and he hated it, but couldn't help himself.

"You're not going to die, Draco. Not for many decades yet."

And he knew it was an empty thought, that Colin couldn't know it for sure; but in that moment the sound of those words said with such force and determination gave him courage.

* * *

The corridors were dark and quiet as Colin rushed through them, his sock-clad feet making soft padding noises. He'd been waiting all day to see if Draco was okay, and time had seemed to slow down, minute by minute passing increasingly slowly, until he'd felt like he wanted to scream in frustration. Flashes of the attack flickered in and out of his brain as he hurried along; he barely cared about stealth even though it was after curfew.

_He paced around the sinks, around and around in the large circle they formed in the middle of the room. He felt helpless, unsure; Draco was sobbing, occasionally spouting out sentences like "he'll kill me" and "I can't do it", but he'd waved away any attempt – in word or gesture – Colin had made to comfort him, and so he had simply taken to pacing, hoping that at least his presence would give some reassurance._

_The sound of the door opening caught his attention. Thankful that he was on the opposite side of the circle hidden from view of the entrance, he carefully peeked between the artfully built-in cracks in the tall, round structure that held the mirrors. Colin gasped quietly when he saw the familiar face standing in the doorway._

_Draco must have heard him, or perhaps he had looked up and noticed their unwelcome visitor, for all of a sudden Colin could hear the sound of footsteps and then spells being hurled back and forth. Colin dived for the relative safety of a bathroom stall, and in the confusion neither of the other boys noticed him. He watched through the crack in between the door hinges as jinx after jinx was cast; and, frozen in horror, heard the start of an Unforgivable Curse come out of Draco's mouth before Harry Potter cast a spell that was foreign to him – _

Colin shook his head violently. _No_. The images in his head of what that spell had done to Draco were gruesome and filled his stomach with a thick dread he'd been unable to shake since it had happened. Thank Merlin Professor Snape had arrived –

Miraculously, he met no one else in the corridors, not even Mrs. Norris, and, his breath coming in quick, rapid movements, he grasped the handle of the door that was all that separated him from his Slytherin. He stood there a moment, letting his breathing calm and clutching the stitch in his side, before stealthily slipping into the Hospital Wing.

There was only one bed occupied, Colin could see. He approached it slowly, suddenly fearful; Draco had been such a mess the last time he'd seen him. The nearly full moon shone brightly though a nearby window, illuminating the pale blonde boy in the bed. Draco appeared to be sleeping, though fitfully; his body tossed and turned sporadically in swift, jerky motions. Colin moved quickly, his heart twisting, and with some difficulty managed to climb onto the bed and pull the boy to him. Draco immediately relaxed in sleep, and Colin held him carefully, all kinds of emotions swirling inside.

_"I didn't know what that spell did."_

_"….you deserve detention…"_

Echoes of Harry and Professor Snape's conversation after the attack flitted in and out of his brain, and Colin shook his head once more in an attempt to clear the thoughts, but it didn't work. He kept seeing Draco's blood spilling from the gashes that spell had inflicted and hearing the sing-song sound of the Professor's healing spell and seeing Harry's face, white and shocked, as he'd waited for Professor Snape to return from bringing Draco to the Hospital Wing.

Colin growled in frustration, though he made sure to keep his voice down to avoid waking the sleeping Draco. Why didn't he intervene? He could have cast a Shield Charm between the boys, or done _something _else to prevent such an awful fight. And instead he'd frozen, and simply _watched_ as Draco had been hurt.

"It's not your fucking fault." A low but fierce snarl startled Colin, and his hand stilled as he looked down to see Draco's eyes were open and trained on him.

"I should have helped," Colin began, but he was interrupted.

"Potter has always stuck his nose where it didn't belong," Draco spat. "We've been enemies since First Year, and our rivalry has nothing to do with you. _It's not your fault_."

"I could have at least cast a Shield Charm."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to," Draco told him. "The fact that you and I are on friendly terms is not something I want anyone to know."

Colin turned his head away so the Slytherin wouldn't see the hurt in his eyes. He knew their – friendship, for lack of a better term – was dangerous, that Draco's parents and, Merlin forbid, Voldemort, could never know of it and that therefore knowledge of their secret meetings must be kept secret, but some part of him wished that this wasn't the case.

"I hope he gets punished for what he did to me," Draco said harshly, and his voice rose slightly in anger.

"Hush," Colin said, "Or Madam Pomfrey will wake up."

Draco scowled, but complied. "What the bloody hell spell was that anyway? I've never even heard of it before."

"I don't know it either. He told Professor Snape he'd learned it from a book but that he didn't know what it would do."

"That's just like Potter to use a spell he has no knowledge of." Draco snorted.

"He's got detention for the rest of the term."

"He deserves a hell of a lot more than that!"

"It did seem odd to me," Colin mused. "Attacking and injuring another student like that, and yet all Professor Snape does is give detention? He loathes Harry, everyone knows that. You'd think he'd want to get him kicked out for this."

"Whatever his reason, I'm grateful," Draco said quietly, after a minute. "_Priori Incantatem_ would have shown that my wand was just as guilty for casting dangerous spells."

"You were in the heat of the moment, you didn't mean – "

"Yes I did," Draco broke in. "I meant it. I wanted to hurt him." He laughed callously. "Wish I'd been quicker. He deserved it."

Colin was silent. His mind flashed back once more, and a thought occurred to him. "Will you be scarred?"

"Faint ones, yes," Draco said bitterly.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Draco repeated.

There was a pause, then – "Why are you holding me?"

Colin disentangled himself quickly. "Sorry. You were tossing and turning in your sleep and you looked like you might hurt yourself and that made you stop."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Gryffindors."

To Colin's relief, Draco was released from the Hospital Wing the next day, and they continued their customary meetings as usual – though from then on, Draco always remembered to cast certain privacy spells on the door.


	7. The Tower

The first week of June was unusually warm, and many students took to completing their homework outdoors in the evenings to avoid the stifling heat of the castle. This made it easier for Colin and Draco to meet up indoors, for there were fewer prying eyes to watch either one of them sneak off to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The one drawback, however, was that this particular bathroom was not properly ventilated, given that it was abandoned.

"I can't concentrate." Colin threw his book to the side, frustrated. "It's too hot."

"I'm having the same trouble," Draco admitted.

"And it's not much cooler outside." Colin sighed. "I wish there was a way to cool off." He knew he sounded whiney but couldn't help it.

Draco frowned in thought. "Flying always cools me off in the summer," he said slowly.

Colin shook his head. "Other than the mandatory flying lessons in First Year I've never been on a broom. Flying wasn't something I was all that good at."

"You could always ride with me on my broom."

Fifteen minutes and two Disillusionment Charms later, they were airborne, Colin's arms loosely wrapped around Draco's waist to keep himself from falling. In the air Draco seemed to become a different person, and Colin found he quite liked the way that the Slytherin laughed as they sped through the sunshine and wispy clouds. Time soon lost all meaning, but all too quickly Draco slowed down until the broom was hovering high above the Quidditch goalposts.

"Colin."

It was the first time that Draco had spoken his name out loud, and Colin could tell from his tone that he had something to say. He tightened his hold on the other boy's waist and waited.

"If all goes well I should have the cabinet fixed in a couple of days."

Colin's heart nearly stopped. "What will happen then?"

Draco didn't answer him directly. "The cabinet, when it's fixed, will create a sort of passageway between Hogwarts and an outside source."

Colin took a moment to process the information before he understood what the older boy was telling him. "You're going to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

There was no reply, but that was answer enough. "All the innocent kids – "

"Everyone should be asleep," Draco assured him. "Every – everything should happen during the night, and they'll be out before anyone even knows what took place."

"How many are coming?"

"I've been told three, but that might have changed."

"They won't…"

"They've been ordered not to touch any of the students. Unless they get in the way."

"They won't." Colin repeated his words, but this time with a note of determination.

Draco started to fly leisurely circles around the field. There was no more talking; Colin knew they were both thinking of the dangers to come. He felt terrified: for his friends and classmates, for himself, but most of all for Draco. _But one way or another_, he knew, _this too shall come to pass_.

* * *

The darkroom was unlit when Draco entered, and only the small rays of sunshine peaking through the curtains allowed him to see where he was going; he walked over to a chair and sat down, only to jump back up a moment later with a small cry of shock. "Bloody hell," he swore. The chair had some sort of slimy substance that was now seeping through his robes to his clothes underneath. He attempted to dry himself with magic but either he'd forgotten how to properly cast the spell – which wasn't likely – or whatever he'd sat in was impervious to magical means of drying. Resisting the urge to stamp his foot in a fit of temper, he stripped his clothes off and set them to dry on the line that normally held Colin's pictures. He then transfigured his still-dry shirt into a blanket and wrapped himself securely.

Draco yawned. The darkness of the room made him sleepy, and he was tempted to take a quick nap – he'd been up all night again. _Maybe just a few minutes_, he thought. He lay down on a wide puffy sofa he had transfigured from a chair some weeks back. "I may as well be comfortable while you develop the film," he'd told the younger boy. Colin had smiled at him then, a teasing laughter shining from his eyes.

The light flipping on what seemed like seconds later woke him, and he blinked blearily. "It's bright," he groaned sleepily.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Colin said anxiously. "I didn't know you'd be asleep."

"I was not asleep," Draco protested. "I was resting."

"Sure," Colin said, and the way he elongated the word told Draco he didn't believe him. "And what happened to your clothes?"

In response Draco gestured to the offending chair.

"Oh Merlin I'm sorry!" Colin exclaimed. "I spilled one of the potions I was practicing the other day and haven't been able to clean it up yet. I had to ask Hermione how to do it because the Drying Spell I tried didn't work."

"And? Is there a solution? I don't want to walk around with wet robes all day."

"It's just pattern work. When you do a Drying Spell you usually flick your wand like this" – he demonstrated the movement quickly – "but for more complicated magical spills you need to swish your wand like _this_."

Draco groaned internally. How did Granger know this variation of the spell when he didn't? "Well don't just stand there, try it out," he said impatiently.

Colin moved over to the chair and swished his wand, muttering a spell as he did so. "It worked!" he said as he patted the chair down.

"Do my clothes next," Draco commanded.

Colin rolled his eyes and got to work. Draco watched, remembering the reason why he'd wanted to meet Colin today, and his stomach twisted.

"It will happen tonight." Draco knew the words came out more coldly than he'd intended, and he saw the Gryffindor flinch slightly and look at him with fearful understanding and anticipation. The feeling was infectious and he looked away and wrapped his arms about himself as though to block out the rest of the world.

Colin moved over to him and tugged on his arms gently, pulling them away from the rest of his body and suddenly Draco found himself being held tightly. He squeezed back just as tightly, needing to hold and be held, and for a long moment all that could be heard was the sound of breathing: Colin's steady and sure, and Draco's rapid and uneven from repressed tears.

And then Colin started humming. It was soothing; a lullaby one might sing to a child after a bad dream, and Draco slowly relaxed. When the last notes faded, he said, "I haven't been sung to since I was a child."

"Did you have a favorite lullaby?" Colin asked.

Draco thought for a minute and then shook his head. "I can't remember."

"I had a favorite. Mum sang some Christmas lullaby one holiday season and for months afterward I would request that song at bedtime."

Draco laughed lightly. "Christmastime was always my favorite time of year as a child. Mother would decorate the entire Manor. She'd let the House Elves take everything down after the holidays but would insist on putting it all up herself. Sometimes she'd let me help. I loved that. And occasionally Father would help too."

"My Mum would decorate the house too." Colin smiled. "I helped by making ornaments for the tree. After a few years we had to put up two trees just to hold them all."

"You were a busy child."

"Yes. I made a lot of things until I discovered photography," Colin said wistfully.

Silence fell, and after awhile Draco's mind turned back to the task that lay ahead. "I hate Dumbledore," he burst out suddenly. "I hate what he stands for, I hate him, but I don't think I can do this, what if I can't do this? But I have to…" He trailed off. Colin's only response was to hold him tighter.

Draco pulled away from the embrace just enough to look at the younger boy. To his relief there was no pity in his eyes, only compassion and resolve and something else, something he couldn't identify. There was an infinite moment where they simply stared at each other and then Draco looked away and pulled Colin back against him as something primal within, a part of him that just needed a comforting human touch, took over.

This time, minutes or maybe hours later, it was Colin that pulled away to meet Draco's gaze.

And this time, there was something else in Colin's eyes, something he couldn't name but on some level, in some part of his brain, knew what it was and it should have frightened him but instead he didn't know what he felt, only that he needed more: more soothing touch, more basic human affection, and perhaps it was that look, or the fear of what he had to do that night, or maybe just his desperate need to be comforted – but after several seconds of charged eye contact he leaned forward and latched his mouth onto Colin's softly, a whisper of a kiss, a question.

He could feel Colin's shock, and wondered if the 'oh fuck' moment was a shared one, but then Colin was kissing him back and he stopped thinking at all, for once surrendering completely, needing to forget the world and the pain and the fear for awhile.

And perhaps it should have felt wrong, but it felt too good to deny the need to lose himself in the pleasure of another's lips, another's arms.

For the first time in a long time, he felt protected, even treasured; and the feeling was intoxicating enough that he allowed his eyes to close after awhile and he drifted away.

Draco came to slowly, groggily groaning as he opened his eyes, but sat up quickly in panic. Why had he fallen asleep again? What time was it? He had a mission to complete tonight! Only after he'd looked at the clock above the door did he remember the reason why he'd gone to sleep: he'd felt safe. Safe in Colin's arms.

He looked around the darkroom but Colin wasn't there. Suppressing a stab of disappointment, he stood up and pulled on his now dry clothes hastily. He'd missed supper but there was still time to grab a bite to eat in the kitchens before he made his way to the Room of Hidden Things.

He looked back at the overlarge sofa and noticed with a start that there was a scrap of parchment on the top. He picked it up with some difficulty – even a light Sticking Charm could be quite strong – and recognized the handwriting as Colin's immediately. It simply read _do what you have to do_.

Draco took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. He could do this. He would do this.

He _had_ to do this.

* * *

Colin had woken up to the sound of Draco sleeping soundly beside him, and had watched him sleep for a long time before he'd extracted himself from their tangle of limbs and left for supper, leaving a note behind for the other boy to find. He hadn't wanted to wake Draco; he'd looked peaceful in sleep and Colin hadn't found the heart to disturb the serene expression.

He now sat by the fireplace. It was warm, almost too warm, but Colin didn't want to move from the armchair. The Gryffindor Common Room was packed, and his eyes kept surveying his housemates as he worried about how he would feel if anything happened to them, should they decide to wander about the castle tonight. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, he left through the portrait hole. He knew it was dangerous, that the Death Eaters would be coming soon, but he needed to _move_. He'd been sitting since after supper, and his legs were tired from being in the same position for so long.

Voices from ahead warned him that his walk, solitary up until now, was about to be interrupted. Unsure who it was, he ducked behind a large statue and peered out to see if it was friend or foe.

"…glad to be back here, even if it is under such circumstances," a man he recognized with surprise as his second year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was saying. "All exits are secure, then?"

A female with mousey hair answered. "Yes. Bill's checking the dungeons now but all other levels have been secured."

"Good. I know this is only a precaution but I want no surprises."

"Constant vigilance, I know I know." Colin heard the eye roll in the woman's tone and grinned to himself. The pair went around a corner and were soon out of earshot, and Colin turned his footsteps back to the dormitory, both reassured and worried at the same time. He was glad there would be – were they Aurors? – on watch to protect the students when the Death Eaters arrived, but he was afraid Draco would be caught up in the middle of the action when they were discovered. Should he warn someone? The guards on watch at the school, perhaps? Or Draco?

He was still deciding when he ran smack dab into Neville Longbottom. "Colin! What are you doing out here?"

"Walking," Colin said. "What's going on?" he added as he caught sight of Neville's companions and their expressions.

"There are Death Eaters in the school," Ginny snapped out as she exchanged a look with Ron.

Colin's stomach dropped. He'd known, but to have it confirmed – "What's the plan? Can I help in some way?"

Ron opened his mouth but Neville beat him to it. "Look, can you just make sure that everyone's in their common rooms? Stay out of sight but check if anyone's still out? I know it's after curfew but that doesn't stop everyone…." His trailing sentence implied _like you_.

"Yes." Colin nodded. "There are guards patrolling too, by the way. I nearly bumped into a couple of them a ways over that way."

"Guards?" Ron said sharply.

"Yeah, Professor Lupin and some woman. And they mentioned a Bill, too."

Ginny gasped and looked at her brother. A brief look of relief passed over their faces. "Over that way, are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

Ginny looked at Neville and Ron. "Let's go find them. They need to know what's going on and we can't fight the Death Eaters alone." She looked back at Colin. "Keep everyone out of the way," she ordered.

Neville and Ron clapped him on the back and then ran after Ginny, sprinting down the corridor after Professor Lupin and the other guard. Colin checked the top floor quickly and then began to work his way down slowly, avoiding any places he found fighting. He longed to help but knew he had to make sure his fellow classmates stayed out of danger.

For a long time he came across no one, not even a ghost, but knew it couldn't be long until someone heard the noise and came out of their dormitory to investigate. The Astronomy Tower and the surrounding classrooms seemed to be the focus of the battle he could hear raging as he continued to check from floor to floor.

At long last he reached the dungeons where he stumbled across Hermione and Luna Lovegood coming out of Professor Snape's office. "We have to get to the battle," Hermione was saying. "Colin what's going on?" she shouted as soon as she noticed him. "We haven't heard anything about what's happening upstairs –"

"They're fighting. The Astronomy Tower," Colin quickly said. "I've been making sure there's no one out of bed, I don't want anyone to get hurt – do you know if it's all clear down here?"

"We haven't seen any other students," Luna said. Her tone was airy but it was clear she was as stressed as Hermione.

"Let's go," Hermione said to Luna. She looked back at Colin. "Watch yourself." The girls left, heading toward the direction of the battle.

He finished searching the dungeons before he made his way back up toward the fighting. The closer he got to the Astronomy Tower the more people he saw: his classmates were carefully venturing out to see what was going on.

"Colin what's happening – "

"Why is there fighting – "

"Someone said there were Death Eaters – "

Colin answered them quickly before ushering the younger children back to their House dormitories. He could tell many of the older students were torn between wanting to fight and wanting to protect their younger classmates. He was relieved that all of them chose the latter course.

He'd just sent a second year Hufflepuff boy back to the safety of his House when he noticed a third year Ravenclaw girl sneaking up the steps that led to the Tower. He gave chase and stopped her just before she reached the corridor where he could hear the fighting. He held on to her tightly, keeping her from turning the corner, and was about to drag her away when she broke free. He entered the corridor just as he heard a voice shout _it's over, time to go_. His focus, however, was on the girl he was trying to protect. She'd halted against the wall as the scene of chaos continued to unfold, and he made his way over to her swiftly but carefully. "Are you all right?" he asked, yelling over the noise as he kept one eye trained on their surroundings.

The girl seemed too terrified to speak, but she nodded, and he turned his full attention on the battle as he kept his body as a shield in front of the younger girl, his wand at the ready. "We're going to run back around the corner," he told the Ravenclaw. She was pressed up against him so close that he felt her nod on the small of his back.

But just before he started to go he caught sight of a familiar flash of blonde hair fighting his way through the battle, three Death Eaters and Professor Snape at his heels. "Draco," he whispered.

Draco couldn't have heard him, for the noise was too great, but as he ducked a curse his eyes met Colin's from across the room and he froze. His companions didn't notice; they were too busy forcing their own way through the clashing crowd of people.

For Colin, seeing that the other boy was still alive and physically unhurt was a relief.

For Draco, seeing Colin was like opening Pandora's Box. Emotions broke free from the cages he'd been hiding them in, even unknown to himself, and it was so strong he dropped to his knees on the floor, still holding eye contact. All the events of the past year came crashing down on him – his mission, his failures, Colin's presence, his parents' expectations, kissing Colin – everything came to the surface, demanding to be felt _now_.

But _now_ was full of battle cries and spells and blood and pain, and as if to emphasize the point a stray curse passed by his nose. He tore his eyes away from Colin and bolted for the safety of – where? He didn't know and didn't care; he just had to get out of there. It was only when he found himself in front of the door that he realized where he had ended up.

He entered the darkroom and magically locked it in such a way that only one other person could make it though and then collapsed on the sofa, his mind in shambles.

Colin watched Draco run from the room, but knew he couldn't focus on the other boy when there was a young, scared girl that needed him. "Ready? Go now!" He told her as they sprinted from the room. They made it unscathed; he half-carried her to Ravenclaw Tower where she squeezed his hand in thanks and fled inside for the security of her dormitory. Colin watched her go before he turned his thoughts to his Slytherin. _Did he leave or did he hide?_ _Where would he go to hide?_

The Room of Requirement was blocked off, probably to stop the Death Eaters from escaping from that route, and Myrtle's bathroom was empty, which left only one other option – well, save for the Slytherin dormitories, but he had a suspicion that Draco wouldn't take refuge there.

The door to his darkroom had a charged feel at his touch and he knew at once that his intuition had been right. He saw that Draco was asleep on the couch, and smiled fondly. The boy looked so calm in sleep. He left quietly; it looked like Draco would be out for a while and he needed to know what was going on.

* * *

"Draco. Wake up. Draco."

"Whaa?" Draco mumbled incoherently.

"You need to move. They're doing a last search of the castle for any remaining Death Eaters." Colin's urgent whisper jolted him awake, and he sat up quickly. "Where can I hide?"

"The Room of Requirement. They've already cleared it and disabled the cabinet. If we hurry we can get you in there."

He didn't hesitate to move, asking only "how long was I asleep?" as they left the darkroom.

"A few hours," Colin said in a low voice.

They narrowly made it through the door that appeared for them on a seventh floor corridor; the voices of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick could be heard just around the corner. "That was close," Colin commented.

Draco didn't answer; he was too busy looking around the room. He'd been afraid that the Room of Hidden Things would appear once more, but instead the space was a smaller version of the Slytherin dormitories. His trunk and other belongings were even beside the sofa in the corner. "Why did the room bring my things?" he wondered aloud.

"What were you thinking when you walked back and forth three times?" Colin asked.

"That I wanted someplace to hide for a while."

"The magic of the room must have sensed that "a while" might mean long enough that you'd need your stuff."

Draco shrugged and looked away, and an awkward silence fell as the elephant crammed itself in every angle of the room. "I was supposed to leave with the rest of them," he finally said. "I need to send Mother an owl so she doesn't worry that I've been caught."

"They know," Colin said. "They know you were a part of it, I overheard some of the people who'd been fighting the Death Eaters talking. But they think you got away with the rest of them."

"Would I be able to sneak out to go home?"

"I don't think so." Colin shook his head as he spoke. "They've upped security until the term ends."

Draco nodded, resigned. "So for the next couple of weeks I'm confined to this room, I suppose."

"If you don't want to get caught, yeah."

Colin was looking at him intently, and Draco knew what he was thinking at once. He looked away again.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

At Colin's quiet words he took a sharp breath. "I don't know what there is to say."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you kiss me back?" Draco countered.

"Because I wanted to," Colin answered after a moment.

The honest answer shocked Draco so much that he blurted out exactly what he felt: "I wanted to too."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know." Draco looked away. "I don't know what to feel about it. And I don't feel like worrying about it. There's too much else going on in my head."

"Are you – I mean, I know you're not okay, but do you – want to talk about it?"

From the look in Colin's eyes, Draco knew he was not talking about their kiss. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I'm still numb. Is he really - ?"

"Yes," Colin confirmed. His eyes asked the question he did not speak out loud.

"No," Draco said softly. "I didn't do it. I couldn't. I stood there, I could have – but I didn't." He sank down on the floor, his head in his hands. "After all the effort, and failed plans, and then when things worked out like how it was supposed to – I was too coward to do it."

And then Colin was on his knees in front of him, his hands on his face, forcing Draco to look at him. "No, Draco. Not being able to kill someone does not make you a coward. It makes you incredibly brave. You knew what was at stake and you knew you had no choice. But you made a different choice instead. Do you know what it means to choose, Draco? It means you are showing the world who you are and what is important to you. And not becoming a killer, even despite enormous pressure to do so, is a very brave and decent choice."

Draco shook his head. What Colin was saying made sense in some part of his brain but he couldn't quite accept it as truth.

Colin could see Draco wasn't able to believe his words and a wave of frustration ran though him. How could he make him understand, to _know_ that he was right? He stared into grey eyes and Draco looked right back at him, a lost look on his face, and Colin stopped thinking and simply acted on instinct, moving to capture Draco's lips in a bruising kiss.

Draco reacted eagerly, forcefully, and Colin responded in kind, giving the blonde boy the physical comfort and reassurance that his clumsy words could not – he poured his emotions out with every swipe of tongue and press of lips.

When Colin moved back, he could see a light in Draco's eyes that had not been there before. "Do you believe me now?" he asked.

"Maybe," Draco breathed. "I think I could use more convincing, though."

Colin answered him thoroughly nonverbally.


	8. The Room of Requirement

Draco was bored. It had been a week since he'd been stuck in here, and he wanted to see the sky again, to feel the wind on his cheeks, and eat as much food as he wanted. Colin had been sneaking his meals to him every day, but there was only so much one could surreptitiously carry at a time. Colin also had to make sure he wasn't being observed coming to the Room of Requirement, which limited his visits, but he'd faithfully come every day so far.

In between their daily conversations Draco had occupied his time by exercising (the room had sprouted some rather nice equipment just for this purpose) and reading the never-ending supply of magical books that had appeared on his second day. He had also written a letter to his parents explaining that he'd been separated from his companions and since it was likely he'd get caught if he tried to leave he had gone into hiding until the end of term, when he would make his way back to the Manor. He had not received a reply, and did not expect one, but all the same the lack of news from his family worried him.

The door opening alerted him to Colin's arrival, and he moved forward at once to take the sack of food that was offered to him. "Chicken, perfect," he said as his stomach grumbled.

As he ate Colin chattered on about classes. Draco had been somewhat surprised that the school had decided to finish up the last couple of weeks left in the term, but Colin had said that it was what Dumbledore would have wanted, anyway – for school to continue on even in his absence. He had said those words in such a precise imitation of Professor McGonagall that Draco hadn't been able to suppress a bout of laughter.

He finished his meal quickly, too hungry to take the time to really enjoy it. "Thanks Colin," he said.

Colin looked pleased, if slightly embarrassed, as he responded. "You're welcome." Draco could tell something was on his mind, because he was fiddling with the hem of his robes. "Spit it out now," he coaxed.

"They're having his funeral here," Colin said in a rush. "At Hogwarts. In a few days."

Draco felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. He didn't want to think about _that_, or his part in it.

"They'll be sending the students home the morning after the funeral," Colin went on, when he didn't speak.

This news made him feel, if possible, even worse, and the moment he realized why hit him like a ton of bricks: he was going to miss Colin's constant presence in his day to day life. To stop himself from thinking about it he quickly spoke, saying the first thing that came to mind: "I should be able to sneak aboard the train home, if I'm careful. A Disillusionment Charm will help with that."

To his relief Colin allowed him to sidestep the subject. "Have you been practicing your spell work?"

Draco nodded, internally rolling his eyes. Of course he'd been practicing; there was precious little else to occupy his time! Out loud he said, "Yeah. And I've been studying some of the spell books that the room has conjured. They've been informative."

"Excellent." Colin clapped his hands once. "I wondered if I should copy the homework the teachers have assigned but sort of – spaced it until now."

Draco shook his head. "I've got a free pass out of homework for the rest of the year, I'd rather not waste this opportunity."

"And yet you're studying on your own," Colin pointed out, snickering.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's different."

"Oh sure it is," Colin said sarcastically, still chuckling.

"It is!" Draco protested, but he could see how funny it was. He started laughing, and the sound mingled with Colin's mirth until it filled the entire room.

_Laughter_, Draco thought as he exchanged a look with Colin which promptly set them both off again, _truly is the best medicine_.

* * *

Draco woke up slowly, unwilling to let go of the numbing relief that unconsciousness brought him, but an irritating tickle on his nose insisted his lingering sleep-induced haze should disappear. His eyes still closed, he batted at his nose but instead found himself tangled in something soft and somewhat furry feeling, sending a jolt of adrenaline though him. Suddenly wide awake, he jerked himself into a sitting position and opened his eyes in the same movement. "Colin!" he gasped, half in relief and half in exasperation. "You scared me!"

Colin sat up as well, a guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"What do you think?" Draco said grumpily.

"Sorry," Colin repeated. "You were asleep when I came in and I didn't want to disturb you and I was tired so I just – lay down next to you."

"Your hair was tickling my nose," Draco complained, but without the bite of his previous words.

Colin laughed lightly, but didn't respond.

"So where's my food?" Draco asked, looking around.

The younger boy waved toward his backpack on the floor a few feet away. "In my bag."

"Brilliant."

As Draco ate, Colin filled him in on random details of school life. He listened keenly, eager to hear about anything and everything. He missed being a part of his classmates' lives. He missed going to class, even the usually mind numbing History of Magic. He missed his life before the Dark Lord's return. He'd been certain of his place in the world then, certain of where he was headed and what he wanted.

Colin stopped speaking for a moment, and Draco looked up at the Gryffindor; he understood at once that there was something the other boy was apprehensive in telling him. "What?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Dumbledore's funeral is today."

"And?" Draco said despairingly.

"You could come."

"Are you mad?" Draco intended to sound angry but the words came out pleading. "I can't. What if someone recognizes me?"

"You _are_ a wizard, you know," Colin patiently explained. "Use a Disillusionment Charm."

"I just can't do it," he said shortly.

Colin seemed to understand what he meant. "It's in an hour. I need to get ready," he spoke quietly, almost sadly. Draco nodded curtly and turned away. After a moment he heard the other boy leave.

He groaned out loud. "I can't do it," he told himself.

The idea, however, gnawed at him, and the more he thought about it the more he realized he wanted to go; perhaps, in some way, it would ease his guilt and give him closure. He certainly hadn't cared much for the man and had loathed what he stood for, but the knowledge that he had aided in the Professor's death bothered him more than he'd ever thought possible. And he had to admit the thought of being able to walk on the grounds again, out in the fresh air, was quite tempting.

It was that thought that swayed his decision. Ten till the hour, Draco performed the charm that turned him into a human chameleon and left the Room of Requirement, his heart thumping in his chest. Once in the Entrance Hall he followed the crowd at a safe distance and managed to find a hiding place in the trees by the lake, near enough that he could see and hear but far enough that no one would stumble upon him accidently.

The speaker went on and on about how great Dumbledore had been, so he didn't listen much to the little man, instead letting his mind wander as his eyes scanned the crowd. A lot of people had turned up – there must have been hundreds – and he didn't even realize he was looking for a specific person until his gaze fell on the boy.

He hated how – how _attached_ he'd become to Colin. And this…whatever this was that they were doing, it wasn't proper at all, yet he couldn't say what he knew he needed to say, because it was too hard to give up his best source of comfort. In fact, he was considering –

A twig cracking made him turn and then freeze, his breath catching; but the centaurs standing mere feet away didn't seem to be aware of his presence. He wondered how long they'd been there; he hadn't noticed them when he'd first arrived.

A moment later a shower of arrows rushed over his head – their tribute, he supposed – and glancing behind him he saw the centaurs leaving. He looked back at the crowd and noticed the funeral seemed to have come to a close. He reluctantly moved, making his way back to the castle.

Colin appeared in the Room of Requirement that night, and Draco could tell he was troubled by the subdued way he greeted him. "What's wrong?" he asked somewhat hesitantly.

Colin looked startled at first before giving a heavy sigh. "Just – I don't want to imagine a world without Professor Dumbledore."

Draco bit his tongue, stopping the words from coming out, but Colin noticed. "I know you don't feel the same," he said quietly.

"No," Draco said bluntly. "I don't."

Colin didn't respond, and there was silence for a long moment until the younger boy spoke again. "Is it…can you hold me?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "I want to forget the world for awhile."

It was nearly an hour later, with Colin securely draped across his chest, when Draco voiced the thought that had been turning in his mind since the funeral. "I want to spend the summer with you."

Colin sat up and looked him straight in the eye. "Do you really mean it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. Do you want to?"

Colin smiled. "I do! But…what about your parents? They wouldn't want me, would they?"

"My Father won't be home much," Draco said. "And Mother will be home but there are parts of the Manor she doesn't ever use, so as long as we're careful they'll never know you're there."

"Okay," Colin sounded a bit hesitant, but excited as well. "Dennis is going to summer camp this year, so I wouldn't really have anyone to hang with at home anyway."

"You don't have mates at home?"

"Nah." Colin shrugged. "I mean, acquaintances sure, but when I'm off at boarding school most of the year it's hard to maintain close friendships at home. Especially since they're Muggles, because I can't talk to them about our world, and that makes up so much of who I am."

Draco struggled for a moment for something to say besides a scathing comment about Muggles and finally settled on, "It must be difficult to censor your statements all the time with…people like that." He felt Colin shrug. "Not really. I mean, I can talk about boarding school without talking about magic. Same with photography."

"I remember," Draco mused, "when my parents took me to a photography studio. I was about ten, I think. Mother wanted a picture of the three of us to hang over our fireplace. I liked looking at the sample pictures all over the walls of the place."

"I'd love to have a studio someday."

"I would have you take my picture. I've seen what you can do with that camera of yours."

"I'd like that," Colin said.

Draco's thoughts shifted. "I don't want to leave," he blurted out suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to leave Hogwarts. I mean, I know I'm in hiding right now, but I don't – want to face the world. Here at school I know who I am and what place I fill in the world, even if it's been a dark road this year. When I go back home…what I will face is unknown."

"We'll make it through," Colin reassured him, and Draco didn't miss the pronoun. "We?" he asked uncertainly.

"We," Colin repeated firmly. "I told you, months and months ago, that I wouldn't give up on you. I meant what I said."

Draco didn't know what to say, so he simply held Colin a little tighter against him. The other boy didn't speak, but he knew his message had been received by the way Colin shifted to pull him closer.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?"

Colin blinked at turned away from the window to look at his younger brother. "What makes you think I'm thinking about something?"

Dennis rolled his eyes. "You've been staring out the window since the train pulled out of the station."

Colin didn't answer right away. Finally he blurted out, "I think I have a crush on a bloke."

"Is it Harry Potter?" Dennis said immediately.

"No, and why would you assume it's him?" Colin asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Well, your stalker-like tendencies where he's concerned – "

"Stalker-like tendencies?" Colin repeated disbelievingly. "Where did you learn that phrase? And I haven't followed him around since – "

"I know, I know, it's been awhile." Dennis laughed. "So it's not him, then?"

"No. And no, I won't tell you who it is," he said, sensing his brother's next question. "But I'm somewhat mixed up about it, that's all. So that's what I've been thinking about."

"Oh! No fair." Dennis pouted. "Come on, spill the beans."

Colin shook his head. Dennis sighed. "Does he know?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"You should tell him. Maybe he likes you too!"

"I'll think about it."

The door to their compartment slid open just then, and a woman poked her head though. "Anything from the trolley, boys?"

While Dennis occupied himself with dozens of sweets, including several chocolate frogs, Colin resumed staring outside. The countryside speeding past the train window was scenic and incredibly breathtaking, especially to his photographer's eye, but he couldn't pay attention to it, instead focusing on a certain Slytherin he was picturing quite clearly in his mind's eye.

He had mixed feelings about…basically _hiding_ from Draco's parents in their home over the summer – what if he was caught? – but he could sense that his friend needed him more than he'd let on, and he had meant what he had said: he wasn't going to give up on Draco, and he would continue to try his best to support and help him. _Perhaps_, he thought dryly, _I have my own hero complex_.

And then there was the other thing: he was fairly sure he had a crush on Draco. He'd been suppressing it when he could, but he knew it was there, the undercurrent of attraction, the jolts of electricity that ran through him when they touched. And the couple of times kisses had been exchanged - well, he couldn't even begin to describe the elation that had flooded him. He knew that, for him, there was something between them, something _there_.

But was it one-sided?

* * *

Draco sat curled up in the luggage car. Colin had helped smuggle him on the train, and while he was glad returning home would not be as complicated as he'd thought it would be it was noisy here in the car where students' owls were kept alongside their trunks.

His thoughts were, at the moment, about what he would find when he returned home. He'd owled his Mother before leaving – he was sure she'd meet him at the station – but what had happened in his absence? What had Professor Snape and the others told his parents, told _Him_, about what happened on the Astronomy Tower? He didn't know what he was walking into, and it made him nervous.

And then there was the matter of Colin. He knew whatever they were doing wasn't proper and he knew it couldn't last for long. But it had been too long since touch had given him comfort, and it felt too good to resist right now. It was dangerous, perhaps, and certainly selfish of him to ask Colin to stay with him for the summer – but fuck the consequences. The high of knowing someone was there to care and to comfort was too brilliant to deny.


	9. Summer at Malfoy Manor

A soft breeze blew through the open window and Colin took a deep breath, savoring the fresh summer evening air and the feel of the wind whistling though his hair. He was sitting on the large window seat, a fluffy pillow underneath him. His gaze, however, was not on the picturesque scene spread out before him from one of the higher levels of Malfoy Manor, but rather on the sleeping boy in the elevated bed just feet away.

Draco was beautiful in sleep, he decided. His bare chest was showing, the silk sheets having been kicked away in sleep, and Colin could see the muscular skin glowing slightly in wispy moonlight. The sight was so heartbreakingly breathtaking he could almost make himself believe that his fantasy was reality – almost. He leaned his head back to press lightly against the wall and stared openly, his heart constricting with a thousand thoughts.

He'd been here about a fortnight now, keeping mostly in Draco's rooms unless his parents were away, which in the case of Malfoy senior it was frequently. Narcissa Malfoy, however, was often home, and in these such times Colin kept himself confined in the bedroom; perhaps it was an unnecessary gesture, for the woman rarely strayed up to the fifth floor where Draco lived, but it gave him peace of mind.

An owl fluttered though the window, startling Colin, and he nearly gave a yell before remembering the sleeping boy in the room. Biting down on his tongue, he untied the scroll from the outstretched leg, giving the owl an affectionate pat as he did so. Draco had instructed his owl to only deliver messages for Colin at night, and Siri had done her job well so far.

The fluttering of wings, light as the sound was, lifted Draco out of his dreamlike sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw Colin unrolling the delivered parchment, and he watched as the boy read it. Observing Colin reading was like seeing the Auroras dancing in the night sky, he decided, and then immediately rolled his eyes, disgruntled at himself for such sappy thoughts.

It was true, though: the emotions would dance across Colin's face quickly; delight and fondness, laughter and sadness, and even once, the shadow of anger.

"News from home?" he asked, and in the silence of the room even his quiet tone sounded loud.

Colin started, turning his head quickly to look at him. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Draco shook his head. "Not you. Siri."

"Oops," Colin whispered. "Yeah, news from home. Sort of. Dennis wrote me from summer camp."

"Looked like there were some interesting stories," Draco commented, stifling a yawn.

"What?" Colin looked startled.

"You don't have a very good poker face, Colin."

"Oh. Yeah, he was telling me about some of the practical jokes his friends were pulling on him. And how there's this one kid who likes to bully some of the little kids. He and his mates are planning something to get the kid to stop, although Dennis didn't say what." Colin paused. "I hope it's nothing dangerous."

"He'll be fine," Draco said. "Come back to bed."

Colin obeyed without hesitation. By now they'd both come to rely on the other's presence at night. Sleeping alone had lasted two nights before a nightmare – and Colin's subsequent calming effect on Draco – put an end to that.

Crawling into bed, Colin slipped under the covers and leaned against Draco's chest. He didn't speak, and soon the sound of steady deep breathing told Draco that the other boy was asleep.

* * *

"Colin?"

"Yes?"

Draco paused, on the verge of saying something, but changed his mind at the last second. "Never mind."

It was late morning, and they were lounging in bed still. Draco had no plans for the day, so he hadn't even made an attempt to leave the comfort of the covers. Colin certainly hadn't minded.

Colin was quiet, but Draco could hear the expectation in the silence. "I did go to the funeral."

"Oh?" Colin said as his hand randomly ran up and down Draco's arm.

"I don't know what to feel anymore. I mean, I still hate him. But for whatever reason, whether he did it on purpose or not – he helped me complete my mission."

"What do you mean?"

"That book he mentioned, _Magical Carpentry_? I found a copy. That's how I figured out how to fix the cabinet. I just keep thinking about how ironic it is, that he aided in his own demise."

There was a pause, then – "I'm grateful to Professor Snape," Draco mused, abruptly changing the topic. "He played up my pathetic attempts to complete the mission and how useful I was for the final confrontation to _Him_."

Colin didn't respond, simply continued to trace his chest, his stomach, his arms, slowly, carefully, almost as though teasing but when Draco looked at his face he could see Colin's thoughtful expression. "What are you thinking about?"

Colin blushed unexpectedly, and Draco quirked his eyebrow; Colin laughed in an embarrassed sort of way. "I was just thinking how – how your school robes hid your body."

"What a novel concept," Draco said mock sarcastically. "I wonder what would happen if I _didn't_ wear my robes?"

Colin ignored his comment, although he gave a slight upturn of lips as he said, "Your body is impressively well built."

"I do work out," Draco muttered, somewhat flustered at the compliment.

Colin only grinned at him before placing his lips on Draco's well-defined abs; Draco closed his eyes and let the other boy explore with his mouth, surrendering to the simple pleasure of human touch.

A timid knock sounded a moment later. Draco growled. "Who is it?"

"Mimzy, young Master," a high pitched squeak sounded. "I is bringing you breakfast."

"Come," Draco commanded as he sat up.

The female elf entered and deposited a tray full of steaming food down before leaving with a bow.

"Thanks," Colin called after her. She squeaked with disbelief as the door shut behind her.

Draco sniffed. "Servants are not to be thanked," he said with a scowl.

"It's polite," Colin said. "Besides, if I treat them right, they won't betray my presence to your parents."

"They won't tell my parents because I asked them not to. I'm a Malfoy too; they have to obey."

"It's still polite to be polite."

Draco sighed and shook his head, but didn't respond as his attention turned to breakfast. "So what do you want to do today?"

"I want to spend some time outside."

"Mum's going shopping later – she doesn't like to send a house elf, Merlin knows why – and Father's left for the day already, so there will be some time we could go out."

"Can we fly?" Colin asked.

Draco grinned. "Ha! I got you hooked on flight."

Colin rolled his eyes but grinned back. "It seems so."

A couple of hours later they were airborne. Colin took a deep breath of fresh summer air, his arms tightly wrapped around Draco's waist, and smiled widely. It wasn't so much the exhilarating feeling of flight that had led him to choose this activity, but rather the way Draco seemed to glow as soon as they kicked off the ground. Seeing Draco so carefree made his heart contract with such an intense emotion and he thought for a moment he would combust with contentment.

_Life_, he thought, _is good_.

* * *

"Draco?" A soft knock sounded, and Draco immediately turned to look at Colin, who was carefully perched on the large windowsill, an open book in his lap. Colin looked back at him with a controlled panic and swiftly fled to the relative safety of the walk-in closet.

"Come in," Draco called, his face quickly falling into a practiced mask.

His Mother opened the door but didn't enter, remaining in the doorway as she spoke. "The Dark Lord has requested our attendance at a gathering this afternoon."

"How long will you be gone?"

"You'll be coming too, Draco." He could hear a feint tremor in her voice, though her face was quite impassive. "He has requested that all of us be present."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"No reason was given," she answered. "Be ready to go at a quarter to one."

"Yes Mum."

She gave him a fond smile that couldn't quite hide the apprehension in her eyes and then left, closing the door gently behind her.

Colin emerged carefully from the closet, his eyes wide with concern. Draco pretended not to notice and turned back to the schoolbook he'd been studying before the interruption.

He felt the bed dip as the other boy climbed on but ignored Colin's presence. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to acknowledge the awful twisting in his stomach; and perhaps Colin understood, for he didn't say anything, and simply rested his hand on Draco's thigh and went back to reading.

The rest of the morning passed quick, much quicker than Colin wanted, but he knew his anxiety was nowhere near what Draco was feeling. "I'll be right here when you get back," he promised, as Draco moved to leave the room.

Draco snorted. "Thanks for stating the obvious."

"I'm good at it," Colin said. He walked over to where the other boy stood by the door, one hand touching the handle. "One for the road?"

It was like Draco had been waiting for him to ask. A low growl ripped from his throat as he pulled Colin to him and crashed their lips together. Colin could feel his desperation and responded in kind, and for a long moment there was hot breath and wandering hands and the heady pressure of lips –

And then Draco pulled away, breathing hard, a wild look in his eye that disappeared as he swept from the room.

Time seemed to pass slowly for Colin as he waited for Draco to return. He paced for awhile before reading more of his book, but wasn't able to concentrate for long before getting up to pace once more. At long last, nearly two hours later, he happened to see the three Malfoys returning as he passed by the window.

Draco walked up the stairs slowly, his thoughts churning. He'd almost forgotten the outside world and the brewing war. These past few weeks he'd spent with Colin had given him a sense of comfort, and dare he admit it, even some peace.

And now he'd been jolted back to a harsh reality he had to face – and face alone, he knew; from the events of the past year, he knew he'd never forgive himself if Colin got hurt or worse because of him. But to lose the comforting arms of the other boy –

"Hi." A low voice interrupted his thoughts as he entered his bedroom.

"He's moving in," Draco said without preamble. "In a few days. He's making our home his headquarters."

Colin blinked, confused; then comprehension filled his eyes. "Why?"

"Internal politics," he responded with great distaste. "Merlin, he has some decent ideas but…"

"But?" Colin prompted.

"I wish he wasn't so brutal to his own followers," Draco whispered. "But," he continued in a normal tone, "it will all be worth it in the end."

"Will it? Is your worldview really what's best for everyone?" Colin said carefully.

"Of course," Draco said forcefully. "In the meantime…"

"You're going to tell me to leave, aren't you."

Draco nodded, and Colin repeated the gesture in understanding, but didn't look happy about it, and he looked away. "I am," Draco started to say.

"No, I get it," Colin interjected. "It's just...are you going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted softly. "But I feel more okay now than I would have been if…" He found he couldn't say the words but it didn't seem to matter; the unsaid knowledge was in the other boy's eyes as he lifted his gaze to meet Colin's.

The moment fell away when Draco moved to sit on the bed. Colin followed when Draco spoke. "I've never had anyone else live here. It's always been just me and my parents, as long as I can remember. We had relatives over occasionally for a night or two, but that's about it…and you, of course, but…" He knew his voice was shaking, revealing just how nervous he was about this latest development.

"What's your favorite ice cream?" Colin asked suddenly.

"What's my _favorite ice cream_?" Draco repeated disbelievingly. "I tell you – well, all _that_ – and you ask what my favorite flavor of ice cream is?"

"Just answer the question."

"Fine." Draco threw his hands in the air. "It's cherry. Any flavor of cherry."

"Why cherry?"

At this, Draco turned red. He looked away.

"Oh this is intriguing," Colin said, grinning. "Come on, spit it out."

"If you must know," Draco said, crossing his arms, "when I was a kid I overheard a couple of teen age girls in the ice cream aisle debating over what flavor to buy. One wanted a mint kind, but the other went on about how she wanted the Cherry Popper because the first time she'd had it, it was bloody brilliant."

Colin tried hard but couldn't suppress his laughter. He doubled up, snorting.

"It's not that funny," Draco muttered, a bit mortified.

"Sorry," Colin choked out as he tried to get his breathing back to normal, "but it kind of is. That funny."

Draco cracked an embarrassed smile. "And it took me a few years to understand what she was talking about," he confessed.

"So – cherry is your favorite because of that conversation you overheard?"

"I don't know why, okay?" Draco covered his face with his hands, and his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "Call it memory association or whatever, but – yes."

"It's curious how memory influences us," Colin said thoughtfully. "Like – chocolate is my favorite because it reminds me of that incredible warmth that spreads through me when I eat it after I've been near a dementor. You'd think that the memory of dementors would discourage me from anything chocolate but it's had the opposite effect."

Draco flopped back on the bed, suddenly tired but no longer in panic mode; somehow, Colin's stupid ice cream question had calmed him down. "What do we do now?"

"What's coming will come. We'll worry about it when it does."

"Optimistic sap," Draco said, though without any real heat. "Look, I'm serious. You can't be here when He comes. It's not safe."

"It's not safe now," Colin pointed out, leaning back to rest next to him. "What if your Mum or Pop walk in right now? They'd catch me, with you."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Draco threw out. "Look, I care about your safety, alright? I don't want you to get hurt! What my parents would do if they caught you is not what _He_ would do!"

Colin looked at him, and he looked back defiantly.

And then Colin was kissing him, quickly, fiercely, and he was kissing back, and for a lingering moment a conversation held with lips but not spoken aloud took place.

"Okay," Colin whispered as they broke apart.

"Okay?" Draco asked.

"Okay," Colin repeated. "Are you sure – are you going to be okay?"

"I'll survive."

"I know you will."

Three days later, Colin's trunk was packed and he was anxiously waiting for Draco's parents to leave the Manor so that he could do the same. He paced the length of the bedroom that he had shared with Draco as he waited, his chest tight with melancholy nerves.

When Draco entered, Colin knew at once that there would be no heartfelt goodbye, no declaration of affection. His Slytherin's carefully practiced mask was on, and even Draco's eyes held no sign of the fondness Colin had seen over the summer.

"They're gone. Come." Draco turned and left the room, and Colin knew he was expected to follow. He dragged his trunk awkwardly along after the rapidly retreating figure. At the tall gates of the Malfoy Manor, Draco stopped and turned. There was a long moment where their eyes caught and held; and then Draco's gaze darted away. "Thank – thank you. For all that you've done for me."

His tone may have been cool, a practiced politeness that must have been drilled into him from a young age, but the stumble over the words and the way Draco wouldn't meet his eyes told Colin volumes. "You're welcome," he said sincerely. He held out his hand. After a moment, Draco took it in his own and even though he still wouldn't look directly at him, Colin understood the silent words that passed between them at the touch.

No goodbye was said.

One boy turned back to the mansion. The other walked through the gate, to the road, and flagged down the Knight Bus.

Neither boy looked back.


	10. The Battle of Hogwarts

He knew he'd be told to leave, should a teacher see him, for he was still underage. But the moment Colin felt the coin heat up in his pocket he also knew he _had_ to respond to the urgent call to arms.

As terrifying as the Astronomy Tower battle had been the previous year, he hadn't actually fought in it, and the reality of true war now staring him in the face was sobering, though not shocking; he'd been through too much the past year on the run with his family – under the new regime anyone not of "proper blood status" was persecuted – and so they'd hidden here and there, never staying in one place for too long.

As he ducked behind a wall in the castle and sniped at the Death Eaters below, he felt thankful for the weeks spent with one Muggle family who allowed them room and board. Their son, a young lad of about fourteen, spent hours playing video games and while Dennis had quickly tired of them, Colin had enjoyed watching, and occasionally playing. The quick reflexes he'd learned were now holding him in good stead.

Colin kept his eye out for a head of blonde hair as he shot spell after spell. He hadn't heard anything about Draco Malfoy the past year, and while he assumed no news was good news, he couldn't help but worry and wonder how the Slytherin had been doing, and if he was here now.

Colin ducked as a jet of green light came soaring at him though the broken window, and decided to switch to a different vantage point. He ran up a couple of floors before stumbling over something in the middle of the corridor and landing hard on the floor. Twisting, he realized he'd tripped over _someone_.

"What are you doing on the floor you idiot?" he bit out at Gregory Goyle, after he'd glanced him over to see if he was injured.

Goyle looked at him, but Colin had the impression that he wasn't really seeing him. Goyle didn't respond by any word or gesture, but simply got up and limped away, swaying unsteadily for several steps before somebody's stunning spell flew through another smashed window and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?" Colin shook his head and stood up carefully. Turning his head, he noticed that the door to the Room of Requirement was visible. "What the hell," he repeated. "Why is the door not invisible as it should be?"

"The Fiendfyre must have messed with the magic of the room," a dull voice answered, and Colin whirled in shock. Draco was sitting against the wall, broken glass from the windows strewn around him. His hair was a mess, there were scorch marks on his clothes, and he looked pale and shaken.

"Fiendfyre?" Colin said in place of the thousands of other words he wanted to voice but was afraid to as he walked over to kneel in front of Draco.

Draco didn't respond to his questioning tone. "I don't want to be a part of this anymore. I'm tired."

Colin had to strain his ears to hear Draco's quiet voice, full of despair and blank shock. Impulsively, he rested his hand on Draco's knee. "Come away with me," he said.

At this, Draco's head jerked up, and their gazes locked. "What did you say?"

"Come away with me. We can go somewhere where they can't hurt us anymore, someplace where we can heal."

"I can't go," Draco said, and there was tired resignation his tone. "My family…"

"We can go away together, away from the madness, and we'll let our families know where we are so they can come visit – "

"Why?" Draco asked numbly. "Why would you want to – with me?"

"I – " Colin stopped, and then started again. "I want to be with you."

"But _why_?" Draco asked again, frustrated now. "Why do you care so much?"

It probably wasn't the best time, especially since he hadn't seen Draco in so long, but he couldn't stop himself from saying it anyway; after all, he'd thought about it often these past several months. "I love you," Colin blurted out. "I've been thinking about you all year. I want to be _with you_."

Draco stared at him, and the longer the moment lasted the more Colin's optimism disappeared, and then Draco grabbed the front of shirt and dragged him roughly into an angry kiss, and Colin melted into it, hope squirming in his chest –

And then Draco shoved him brutally away, and Colin blinked at him in bewilderment before his heart sank at the twisted, ugly little smile now curling on Draco's mouth.

"I've appreciated your support in the past," Draco said, his tone condescending, "but I could never love another man and _especially_ not a Muggle born." He folded his arms. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Then why," Colin asked, his stomach in knots, "did you kiss me?"

"Why not?" Draco said as he got to his feet. He looked down at Colin, still kneeling at his feet, and smiled bitterly. "Goodbye and good luck, Colin."

The words were spoken softly, almost fondly, in complete contrast to the cruel rejection, and Colin stood up in confusion. "Goodbye and good luck, Draco," he echoed back. Their eyes met; and then there was a bang and the castle wall mere feet away exploded, and they were thrown sideways from the shockwaves.

When Colin looked up, Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Draco slid down the wall around the corner from where he'd left Colin. His legs hurt and he knew he smelled of smoke. He wished, in some way, that he could have taken the Gryffindor up on his offer. Draco felt tired, tired of fighting and hurting and dying and torture; he knew it was for a good reason but just wanted it over. _Why can't all the Mudbloods simply get in their place and stay there?_

He forced his legs to move. It was best not to stay in one place too long and he wanted to look for his parents; he needed to know they were still alive.

* * *

_"You have one hour."_

Colin shivered as the last notes of Voldemort's speech faded. As desperate as he was for a breather, he didn't want to face the many bodies he'd seen nor the faces of those still left standing.

"Creevey!"

He turned at the sound of his name. _Oh bugger_. Professor McGonagall strode toward him, her usual neat bun now spilling along her shoulders messily and her normally crisp robes now torn and stained.

"Yes Professor?"

She surveyed him for a moment in a manner so reminiscent of Professor Dumbledore that Colin actually took a half step back. Would she send him home? He mentally prepared himself for an argument, but she surprised him when she spoke. "The defenders are gathering in the Great Hall to wait out the hour reprieve, Creevey. Unless you'd rather help with the – the cleanup, you'd best make your way over there."

"Yes Professor." Colin nodded, thankful she was allowing him to stay, and made his way to the Great Hall. The next hour he busied himself with helping the injured and comforting friends. Some part of him kept an eye out for Draco, but he did not appear, and Colin pushed aside the painful emotions that the thought of his Slytherin evoked as best he could.

Draco surveyed the scene, magically hidden, from a corner in the Great Hall as people bustled to and fro helping those hurt and passing out food, blankets, or some other comfort. His eyes fell on Colin, who was holding a crying child in his arms halfway across the Hall. Conflicting emotions swirled as he gazed at him. Perhaps in a different life, or a different world; but in this one, any true self-respecting pureblood simply did not consort with anyone of a lower status, especially one of the same gender. Passing on the magical genes took precedence to any other selfish desire. In some part of him, he longed for the comfort and the safety he'd once felt in Colin's arms, but he shoved that aside hastily, dismissing it; it could not be, _they_ could not be, and it would do no good to dwell on such a frivolous action.

He turned and walked out of the Hall, and as the door shut behind him he felt as though he'd lost a part of himself. He shook his head and moved on.

* * *

"Draco! Draco!"

Colin looked over to his right at the sound of the familiar name, but Draco wasn't there. He watched somewhat amazed as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy ran through the people fighting, dodging spells and jumping over the injured, calling for their son; but the next second he was roughly shoved to the ground. Looking up, he saw Neville stunning a masked Death Eater.

"Watch yourself Colin!" Neville shouted above the noise. "What do you think you're doing, staring off into space?"

Colin didn't even get the chance to answer before Neville ran off into the fray. He followed; the battle had slowly moved, and now nearly everyone was crammed into the Great Hall. Friend and foe alike shouted, dodged curses, and sent spells shooting through the air right back at their opponents, and Colin lost track of time.

And then Harry appeared, and Colin felt a sense of relief. As the crowd backed up to form a large circle around Voldemort and Harry, for the first time since the battle had begun he wished for his camera. He scanned the room, and the people lined against the walls, wanting to remember this moment; this, he knew, was history in the making. He saw friends and teachers and parents and people from the Village, and even as he listened to the conversation taking place between the two men now circling each other in the middle of the Hall, he looked at the faces of all who stood around the room.

He saw Dennis, white faced and shaking, but determination set in his features as he watched the scene unfold. He saw Luna, robes torn and hair askew, but a serene look upon her bruised face. He saw Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, arms linked as they huddled in a corner – and there was Draco, standing beside them, his hand entwined in his Mother's, and Colin's heart leapt and shattered in that moment, and he turned his full attention back to the middle of the room.

And then it was over, all over, and he was hugging and laughing and crying with the crowd, and he didn't know how long they celebrated before Professor McGonagall announced that the House Elves had been busy and were ready to serve a large feast. More cheering greeted her words, and it was in a merry fashion that people set about restoring the House tables in the Great Hall.

Sometime later, his stomach full and Dennis by his side, Colin set out for a walk around the grounds. They passed the Malfoy family on the way out of the Hall; the three of them were huddled together, and looked rather unsure of their presence among those they had fought against. Colin's eyes meet Draco's for a brief moment. Draco inclined his head slightly and Colin mirrored his action, and then he walked past and the connection was broken.

As they walked along the lake, Dennis broke the contemplative silence. "I owled Mum and Pop. Told them what happened and that we're okay."

"Thanks," Colin said. "I meant to but got caught up in the celebrations."

"It's Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Dennis said suddenly.

"What?" Colin looked over at his brother, who looked back at him without flinching.

"The boy you told me about on the train last year. The one you had a crush on. It's Malfoy, isn't it?"

Colin looked away. "How did you know?"

"The way you looked at him, just now, in the Great Hall."

"It's that obvious?" Colin sighed.

"Only to me," Dennis said, "because I know you too well. Does he…?"

"No." Colin said flatly. "I don't know if he ever felt the same way, really. I thought maybe….but old prejudices are too strong, and even if he did feel something for me he doesn't believe he can act on it."

"You know him well?" Dennis sounded surprised.

"Glad to know I can still keep a secret from you," Colin laughed dryly. "Yes. Or I thought I did. Perhaps someday I'll tell you the story."

Dennis clapped him on the shoulder and was silent.

As they neared the entrance of the castle, Colin noticed a figure sitting on the steps. As they got closer he recognized Harry. Dennis nodded as he caught the look that Colin sent, and went into the castle alone, leaving Colin with Harry.

"No Colin, I do not want my picture taken," Harry said wearily as he looked up. "And no autographs either."

Colin shook his head. "I wasn't going to ask for any of that."

"You weren't?"

"I've grown up a bit since my first year." Colin rolled his eyes.

"You would make a brilliant celebrity paparazzi," Harry said. "You'd give Rita Skeeter a run for her money."

"I'd rather not," Colin said. "I want to have a little photography shop somewhere someday. Maybe in Diagon Ally."

Harry smiled. It was a tired smile, but genuine nonetheless. "I'll be your first customer. On one condition. That the picture doesn't end up in the newspaper."

"Deal." Colin sat down next to Harry on the steps and gazed out on the grounds. "I was lucky," he said in a low voice. "I didn't lose any of my family. But so many of them" – he inclined his head toward the castle – "lost family and friends and loved ones. Is it wrong of me to feel happy that at least my own family is still alive?"

Harry sighed heavily. "If it's one thing I've learned, it's that you should take happiness where you can get it. There's precious little of it, especially in times as dark as this past year."

And as they watched the sun come up, for the first time in months Colin felt at peace.

* * *

Draco paced several feet away from where Professor McGonagall sat talking to his parents. Every now and then he'd catch a few words, enough to know that they were discussing the war, and while he was somewhat curious he was too tired to eavesdrop.

"Draco."

At his Mother's soft voice he looked up. "Yes?"

"Let's go home son," she said, and a tired smile briefly lit up her face.

"We're allowed…?"

"McGonagall has given us permission to go home," his father said. "As to what happens after that, she doesn't know."

"She's just letting us go?" Draco asked as they walked toward the Entrance Hall.

"She said she trusts us not to run."

"We'd be foolish to try," his father said curtly. "What may happen to us now is nothing compared to what would happen if we ran."

As they walked out the double doors of the castle, Draco saw Colin sitting on the steps next to Harry Potter. Both boys turned as the door closed. Potter's face wore an unreadable expression, but Colin had a shattered look that threatened to tear Draco's heart out for reasons he didn't want to face. He looked away as he walked on, and one by one, put all thoughts of Colin and their time together from his mind, locking the memories back in the corner of his mind, in a box he'd no longer allow himself to think about.

Once they passed the entrance gates, his parents stopped and turned to face him.

"Ready?" his Mother asked, holding out her hands.

"Let's go home," he responded.

There was a large crack, and the three of them disappeared, hand in hand in hand.


End file.
